


Time Heals Most Wounds

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: Blunt Force Trauma [3]
Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aunt May is the best, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Peter Parker, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Fluff, Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, Happy, Healing, Johnny Storm Needs a Hug, M/M, Memes exist, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Not Avengers friendly, Peter Parker Has Good Friends, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Happy, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Queens Cops Are Great, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, The relationship is pretty tame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 60,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: In the aftermath of being tortured, it takes Peter months to get back on the beat. But he has amazing friends, a good family, a huge crush and the support of Queens. While he was left broken by the Avengers, his real friends are still by his side as he gets back to the good life.OR: how Peter got his groove back and everyone is his hype man, how mutants got accepted because of a viral video and how Johnny showed everyone he has a lot more depth than they expected. It's the happy almost-conclusion of a pretty sad universe.





	Time Heals Most Wounds

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry it's taken me so long to write this. It's a long story.

Peter wasn’t swinging by mid-October or even mid-November. But he got rid of the visible limp — as long as he consciously thought about walking without it — by mid-October. And by mid-November, he was twelve pounds heavier and two inches taller than he had been before his kidnapping. He was healthy, he was normal. He wasn’t swinging quite right, his stamina wasn’t what it had been and his core strength wasn’t perfect. But he was doing okay — well, that wasn’t quite true — okay-adjacent. Sometimes it was still really hard to be positive. 

He wanted to be in the sky. But now he had a dog, and a bedspread with himself printed on it and a onesie that confused the hell out of Lucky. Lucky couldn’t easily distinguish between the onesie and his super suit. He knew he wasn’t supposed to climb on Peter when he was wearing his suit. He would carefully step on Peter’s foot. If it was soft and not a gardening clog, he would be all over him. He was a great dog. They Skyped with Clint on Sundays, after Peter got home from his internship. Lucky was always excited to see Clint but, thankfully, he wasn’t sad after they disconnected.

Feeling better he reached out Shuri. He had digitally met her through Tony Stark, and he associated her so strongly with hanging out at the Tower that it had taken him a while to warm to the idea of seeing her. He liked having a digital pen pal, and he really liked her. Plus, it was just cool to talk to his friend in Africa. She was seven hours ahead, and they set up a time to talk. It was their first time speaking in Peter’s house. It was early in the morning when he heard the Skype noise woke him. He answered his phone without opening his eyes. “I thought we were talking at ten my time?”

“It is ten,” said Shuri. “Also, ‘hi.’ We haven’t spoken in months and you greet me by saying I’m too early.”

He opened his eyes and smiled, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she said. “How is your leg?” He froze, and she said, “Tony Stark’s bubbly, brilliant intern who never swears and works on glue? Come on. Don’t panic; I’ve known for a year. There’s no reason to panic now. How is your leg?”

“Hank McCoy did a pretty great job on it, but I’m still in rehab.”

Lucky came bounding into the room and onto the bed, squirming to be in front of the camera. “Lucky,” Peter sighed, “It’s not Clint.” He held the phone at arm’s length, “Shuri, this is my dog, Lucky. Lucky, this is Her Royal Highness Princess Shuri of Wakanda.”

“What a cute dog,” Shuri cooed, “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

“I didn’t last time we talked. Clint Barton retired from being Hawkeye and couldn’t bring Lucky into his next life. We Skype. Lucky got excited when he heard the Skype noise.” He stroked Lucky and sat up. Lucky curled up in his lap. He patted his dog and said, “I’m really sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I miss him. T’Challa and I rock, paper scissored for the throne. I don’t think he would have made me take it if I lost.”

“So the throne was the punishment for losing?” asked Peter. “Not the prize?”

“God no, who would want that? The dead ruler’s children can choose amongst themselves who they nominate for the throne. My brother would not do that to me. And then there is sort of ceremonial trial by combat, where people can challenge for the throne. My brother would never have put me in that position. Then again, Steve Rogers would never break your leg, so…” she trailed off. “I miss my dad.”

“I miss walking without a limp,” said Peter. “I’m sorry about your dad. It gets better, with time, but you’re always going to miss him.”

“How is your aunt doing? My mom isn’t doing well.”

“A year on, she has a half crush on Hank McCoy,” said Peter.

“Hank McCoy?” asked Shuri, skeptically.

“He performed multiple surgeries on me and has stroked my back while I vomited and cried in pain during rehab. Of course she’s into him.”

“Peter, who are you talking to?” called May.

“Her Royal Highness Princess Shuri of Wakanda,” Peter called back.

There was a silence and then May said, “Don’t give her your social security number or your mother’s maiden name.” Shuri laughed and the May looked in the door, horrified. May whispered, “You’re not wearing a headset?”

“I’m not wearing a headset,” agreed Peter, making Shuri laugh again. “It’s not a crank,” he said, “Tony Stark introduced us,” He turned the phone to her and said, “Shuri, this is Aunt May. May, this is Her Royal Highness Princess Shuri of Wakanda.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” said May.

“No, not at all. Peter didn’t apologize for oversleeping our Skype date and picking up in his PJs. You don’t have to call me ‘highness.’ I’m not a Nigerian prince.”

“Apparently it’s past ten,” said Peter to May.

“It’s seven fifteen,” said May. 

Turning the phone back to himself, Peter said, “Shuri, you are the worst.” 

Shuri laughed, “I may have gotten the time wrong.”

“You have the internet,” said Peter.

“Sorry,” said Shuri. 

“You told me off for oversleeping and it’s seven,” whined Peter.

“You fell off the face of the Earth for months,” she justified.

“Sorry Steve Rogers broke my leg, and the United States government almost starved me to death,” he said, sarcastically. May raised an eyebrow, and Peter said, “Apparently Shuri always knew.”

“You’re built like Spider-Man, you’re friends with Tony Stark, you never swear and your research is about sticky polymers,” said Shuri. “It was hardly a head-scratcher.”

“I’m not friends with Tony. Tony left me there. Tony is in prison for what he did. I am not friends with Tony Stark,” corrected Peter. “He left me in a frozen hell, Shuri.” 

May smiled at him gently from the door, “I’ll leave you to chat.”

He continued to wake up slowly, and Shuri said, “I don’t know what’s going on behind you, but I like the blue and red.”

Peter said, “Oh, fun idea, room tours. I’ll go first.” He reversed the camera and said, “This is my bedroom. My friends helped me redecorate and get rid of the Avengers junk. It’s the colors of my super suit.”

“What a nice mural,” Shuri said. 

Peter got out of bed and said, “Look, there’s a little me.” He showed her the painting of him eating a sandwich.

“Is that a Spider-Man duvet on your bed?” asked Shuri.

“Yeah, I just got it. The Maria Stark Foundation sends all my stuff to the Fantastics. This is my Spidey Space. It’s like the Batcave, only my bedroom.”

“What’s in the jars?” 

Peter stood on his bed to get the phone closer, “Those are my organs.”

“You kept them in jars?”

“Yeah; they belong to me,” said Peter. “I was keeping them. Steve Rogers wasn’t going to take them from me… I kind of have emotional issues around my organs.”

“Is that a ceiling hammock?” 

“Yep.” 

He gave her a full tour and then asked, “Can I see your lab?” She gave him a tour of her lab and he said, “wow,” over and over again. “So much more impressive than my bedroom.”

“Well, it’s a lab so…” she said as she turned the camera back to her.

“Was that Jake from State Farm?” asked Peter and she laughed and nodded. “I’ve missed you, Shuri.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said. 

They talked for another two hours before T’Challa came into her lab and Peter smiled, “Hello, My Liege.”

T’Challa rolled his eyes, “Don’t. And I think, if I were serious, I would actual find that offensive.”

“Why?” asked Peter.

“I’m not your liege,” said T’Challa. 

“What does liege mean?” asked Peter.

T’Challa sighed, “Are you recovered, Peter?”

Peter shook his head, “Does your whole country know?”

“Our whole country hasn’t talked to you in Stark’s lab,” said T’Challa.

Peter nodded, “I guess it’s okay for Black Panther to know I’m me.” T’Challa’s jaw dropped. “I’m gonna be honest: I think it’s more obvious that you’re Black Panther than that I’m Spider-Man.”

“The room you are in matches the color of your suit,” said T’Challa. 

“Yeah, but it’s my bedroom. No one sees my bedroom everyone sees that the envoy from Wakanda is in the same town as Black Panther, but you’re always conspicuously missing from the group shot. It’s like Clark Kent and Superman.”

“I do not understand what that means,” said T’Challa.

“It’s a comic book thing,” said Peter. “The reason people don’t call you out on it is ‘cause you’re a liege.”

T’Challa laughed, “Stop using that word.” Then to his sister he said, “Mother is looking for you.”

“I gotta go,” said Shuri. “Talk soon?”

“Yes, please,” said Peter. “I’ve missed chatting.”

“Well, now I have your real Skype name, so we’ll talk soon.”

“Next time, take a look at the time difference a second time.” He stretched and yawned. 

“Oh, please,” she rolled her eyes, “Rogers broke your leg. All I did was wake you up.” He groaned and she chirpily said, “Love you, mean it!”

He laughed, “Bite me, Princess.” She laughed and they disconnected. 

From downstairs May called, “Did you just tell Her Royal Highness Princess Shuri of Wakanda to bite you?”

“She woke me up at seven on a weekend,” Peter called back. Lucky whined, and Peter said, “I’ll walk the dog.”

It was freezing outside, snow had already fallen once but thankfully not settled — the ground to warm for it to stick. The first time it had snowed, it had freaked him out. May had handed him a bag from a hiking store and said, “A little gift.” Inside, he found two sets of electrified long johns covered in tiny heating elements. “It’s not an all-over heater, but-” she started and he hugged the stuffing out of her. He hugged her for the thought, for the research she must have done, for believing that he was going to get back to swinging.

Reed showed him new material in the lab and said, “It’s stab and bulletproof. Nanoparticles on the material’s surface absorb the impact and redistribute the force all over the surface. A bullet still hurts, but it’s now a full-body bruise instead of a bullet wound.”

Peter smiled and said, “So cool.”

“Can you please put aside your research for today and help me? I know it’s against the spirit of your internship, but it would be helpful.”

“Of course,” agreed Peter. He spent hours working on it. Without the ability to patrol, he had found himself in the lab a lot. He had finished two spools of the stuff and Reed showed him how to cut and sew the material. It was fascinating. 

When he was done, Reed said, “Those two spools are for you. That bastard built you a suit, and he betrayed you. I think it’s great that you made your suit. I completely understand wanting to own your suit and make it with your own two hands and from your own labor. Please sew the cloth you just made with your own two hands into your suit. Because I don’t want to build a suit for you but I also really want you to be safe when you’re out there. As awesome as your suit is, it’s not bulletproof.” Peter had hugged him too. Because, just like May, Reed believed in Peter and that Peter could be Spider-Man again, despite being behind schedule.

They spent Thanksgiving with the Fantastics. Sue was only allowed to make cranberry sauce. Peter ran into Dr. Strange the week before and asked what he was doing for the holiday. Strange had shrugged, “I don’t have a plan.”

“Okay, cool, do you know how to bake a pecan pie?” asked Peter. “If not, do you know where to buy a pecan pie? Because you’re bringing one of those and a can of Reddi Wip to the Baxter Building.”

The man smiled, “Peter, you can’t invite someone to someone else’s house.”

“A) It’s Thanksgiving and anyone can invite anyone to someone nice’s house on Thanksgiving. B) We’re bringing the stuffing, carrots, green beans, pineapple upside-down cake and cornbread, so, it’s not just their Thanksgiving.”

Nodding slowly, Stephen said, “I’ll make a pecan pie and a pumpkin pie too. And I’ll make real whip cream.”

“Yum,” said Peter.

On the day, Danny Rand and Luke Cage turned up an hour before dinner. Reed raised an eyebrow, and Danny said, “There is an explanation.” He didn’t go on. 

Instead, Luke said, “We brought sweet potato casserole.”

“Great,” said Reed. “Do you know my intern, Peter? He used to work for Stark but, of course, Stark went to prison for abusing a child.”

“We met at the Stark Gala,” said Danny.

Luke was studying him but smiled and shook his hand. When Lucky came over, Luke said, “Is that Barton’s dog?”

“My dog now,” said Peter. Both men smiled politely, and Peter said, “Jig is up, isn’t it? It’s just gonna be awkward if we pretend?”

“I’m excellent at pretending things aren’t awkward,” said Danny.

“Danny, you suck at acting natural,” said Peter. “You tried to casually walk by Ock and almost got murdered because you drew attention to yourself by casually whistling.”

“Yeah, but in social settings I’ve very good at politely ignoring elephants in the room,” protested Danny. “You just do the rich person laugh and drink more champagne.”

Peter smiled and Luke said, “We can pretend if you like.”

“Y’know, my Principal called me into his office and obliquely asked me while he had a picture of Steve Rogers on the wall. Whereas superheroes all act like we don’t know even when we do. We all pretend we don’t know who Daredevil is. It’s just a weird difference.”

Luke smiled, “We respect privacy and safety. So we can pretend. Did you say your name was Peter? And you’re Reed’s intern?”

“I really am Reed’s intern. I work on polymers,” said Peter. “But I’m also Spider-Man.” Pointing to May, he said, “That’s Aunt May. You have her phone number. And Lucky is my dog now.”

Luke crouched and said, “Hey, Lucky. You remember me?” Lucky licked his face. “Yes, you do. It’s good to see you.”

Reed sighed and said, “So much for your privacy.”

“Luke and Danny are okay. Jess is too unstable, and Daredevil has a lot of secrets of his own without carrying mine too,” said Peter. “So can we?” he let the question trail off to an open end.

“Obviously, man,” Danny. “You don’t have to worry. They ask we say we met Reed’s intern at Thanksgiving. We’re superheroes we keep each other safe. Otherwise, we lose our names and go to prison because we aren’t superheroes, we’re bastards. Jessica and Double D don’t need your name. They know you’re a friend.”

Luke straightened up and put out his arms. “Come here.” Peter stepped into the hug. “It’s good to see you. As you’re still healing, the city’s been missing you.”

May came over just as Peter was pulling away. “May, Danny and Luke. Luke and Danny, this is my aunt, May.”

“Hello,” May said with a slightly worried smile.

“Your kid is just the nicest,” said Danny.

“Every superhero I meet tells me that,” said May.

Shrugging, Luke said, “We’re all angry cynics, and then Peter is there helping old people across the street and stopping bicycle thefts when he’s not dealing with the Lizard.”

“He’s not allowed any super villains anymore,” said May. “Come in. There’s beer, white wine and apple cider.”

“Ohh, apple cider,” said Danny with excitement.

“It’s nonalcoholic,” said May, “for the kids.” 

“I assumed it was nonalcoholic,” said Danny, “I just really like apple cider. K'un-Lun didn’t have apple cider. I missed it.”

They had a nice day with tons of food and laughing, Lucky made rounds at ease with the general happy mood, being stroked by many. When they were watching the recaps of the National Dog Show, Lucky came and fell asleep on Peter’s feet. Johnny dropped his head onto Peter’s shoulder and said, “I am uncomfortably full. Wake me up when we get to the best in show round.”

“Your toys got released last week,” said Luke. “You excited?”

“Well, they gave me stuff early, so I’ve got everything I want,” said Peter with a smile. “I love my onesie. I love my bedspread.”

“I meant because of the money and the fame and the little kids dressed up as you,” said Luke.

“The little kids dressed up as you is the best,” said Reed, emphatically. “I saw a little boy who had grayed out his temples. It’s just the best.”

“That’s so cute,” agreed Peter. “There are really cool silly string web shooters that are going to bug the living daylights out of parents. I would be pretty thrilled to see little kids playing with them. How do you pay taxes when you can’t admit you’re the person with the money?”

“Ask Charles Xavier,” suggested Danny. “As a businessman, I’m more likely to know how to avoid paying taxes.”

“Danny,” Sue reprimanded.

“It was a joke,” Danny defended himself. “Do you guys watch Dog Cops?”

“It’s Clint’s favorite show,” said Peter. “So now it’s Luck’s favorite. Isn’t it a very special episode tonight?”

“We’re gonna find out if Special Agent Scruffy’s cancer is in remission,” said Luke.

Lucky woke up and barked. “You’re concerned about Special Agent Scruffy, aren’t you, Lucky?” Lucky rested his head on Peter’s knees. “But Sargent Whiskers is your favorite, right boy?” Lucky nuzzled his face into Peter’s abdomen and fell back to sleep. 

“He’s such a great dog,” said Danny.

“Such a great dog,” agreed May.

They all watched the stupid show together, enjoying it. Lucky sat alert, staring at the screen the whole time. During the commercials, he would wander around the room for pats but would come back to Peter when it started again. Lucky wasn’t allowed on the Fantastics’ nice sofa and Peter sat on the floor so Lucky could sit on his lap. Scruffy was in full remission, but it looked like Whiskers’ wife was seeing another dog behind his back. 

It was a great day. They had seconds of food. Peter’s jeans were tight, and Johnny said, “Why are you wearing jeans, Pete? Mistake. Want sweats?”

Peter changed and coming back he heard May say, “Did you finish The Small House at Allington?”

“Johnny Eames is too good for Lily Dale,” replied Sue.

“I liked that book,” said Luke. “I read it in prison. The scene with the bull is great.”

“Yup,” agreed Sue, clearly not having much to say, “when he rescues Earl de Guest.”

“I think that really speaks to the interconnection of all men, regardless of class or place in the world,” continued Luke. May just nodded, “What I’m not allowed to like Victorian novels?”

“We have a very specific book club,” said Sue.

“No boys allowed?” asked Luke.

“It’s for very busy medical professional women who don’t have time to read books because they’re busy raising teen supers,” May explained.

“If it’s for people who don’t have time to read,” Luke’s words trailed off.

“We’re talking about the Wikipedia page,” admitted May. “We’re working our way through the Chronicles of Barsetshire.”

“It’s called Wine and Wikipedia Wednesdays, but we rarely have time to meet on Wednesdays so that’s just a title,” said Sue.

“Wikipedia?” said Danny, with a smirk.

“Bro, you have no room to mock anyone for anything… ever,” said Johnny. “And do you even fully understand Wikipedia?”

“We had Google and the internet,” said Danny. “My plane went down in two thousand and one, not nineteen oh one. And Wikipedia was very nearly a thing.”

Peter and Johnny ended up eating thirds, and everyone cleaned up the kitchen together before dividing up the leftovers. As they filled up take out containers for each other, Sue said, “I am so glad we could all be together today.”

“There is an explanation,” said Danny.

“Don’t need it; the sweet potatoes were delicious, and you’re always welcome,” said Sue, handing him a plastic bag filled with containers. 

Strange, Luke and Danny left, and Peter said, “Johnny, can I keep your sweats?”

“Sure, am I still invited to come watch the Muppets Christmas Carol tomorrow?”

“Absolutely,” agreed Peter. “That’s in the morning. I’m going to Westchester at one. Weekend long rehab.”

“That’s gonna suck,” said Johnny.

“I’m two weeks past when Hank said I would be swinging,” said Peter. “A hard weekend might be what I need. I miss rooftops. Specifically, I miss eating on them.”

“Okay, I will come with you,” said Johnny. “Sue, we don’t have anything until Tuesday, right?”

“Yeah, totally, have fun,” said Sue.

“Cool. Peter, May, you want I should come with you now?”

“That was the most New York sentence structure I’ve heard in a while,” said May. “Yeah, come with us.”

“I’ll grab a bag,” Johnny smiled. “Sue,” he started, and she groaned.

“I will re-split the leftovers so that you and Peter can have a midnight feast. But don’t do it at actual midnight because Pete is going to have a rough weekend. Go get a bag.”

“Brunch sandwiches, Sue, giant brunch sandwiches with the Muppets,” said Peter. 

Sue started to re-split things. “All the food was good,” she said, “and I didn’t do a thing. Great Thanksgiving, everyone.” Johnny came back with his bag. He kissed his sister’s cheek and took the plastic bag from her. “May, you’re the only person leaving here with actual Tupperware because I wouldn’t get it back from Stephen, Danny or Luke.”

May smiled and said, “I’ll send Johnny home with it on Sunday.”

“Thank you,” said Sue.

Peter hugged her, Ben and Reed as they left. The next day they had a relaxing morning with leftovers and the Christmas movie before heading over to the Mansion. There, people were already taking down Thanksgiving decorations and putting up snowflakes. “This seems premature,” said Johnny. Peter was wearing his mask and was hugged by several people.

Bobby came and lit up, “Hey, Johnny, I didn’t realize you were coming with Spidey.”

“I wanted to see your beautiful face,” Johnny smiled. “I mean, Spidey can always use cheerleaders, but I mostly wanted to see that smile. You look very handsome today.”

Glancing down, Bobby said, “I’m in PJs, and I haven’t combed my hair.”

“Yup, still gorgeous,” agreed Johnny. Bobby blushed.

Then Lucky jumped to put his paws on Bobby’s shoulders. “Hi, you good boy. The doctors are in the kitchen, Spidey, we’ve been having a slow morning. Hence my PJs. Would have brushed my hair if I had known my boyfriend was coming.”

“You look cute as a button,” said Johnny.

Still blushing, Bobby said, “I’m gonna get dressed.” As he passed, he kissed Johnny’s cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.” Johnny hugged him and let him pass.

Peter spent the whole weekend working out under careful supervision. He swung, he worked on a balance beam, he lifted weights, he did yoga. He swung for hours while being handed snacks with carefully balanced fat and carbs and protein. All of it was designed to make him gain and keep muscle. He could get through the obstacle course easily now. Lucky would play on the floor with the low hoops and tunnels, chasing Peter when he got to that section.

When Hank told him to take a break on his fourth run-through of the morning, Peter snapped, “I am fine, let me keep going.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hank. “I really thought you would be Spider-Manning by now. I’m sorry that my estimate was wrong. But that’s not on you. You have been doing beautifully. I’m so proud of you for the progress you’ve made.”

“You never have to apologize for my leg, Hank. You helped me; you got me walking. The only people who owe me an apology went to prison without ever saying a word.”

Hank sighed and said, “You need food. You need a break. You’re at a calorie deficit. Come eat before you lose weight.”

Peter swung from a beam to a hand loop to a rope and shimmied down to the ground. Lucky jumped up to lick his sweaty face. “Luck, that’s gross.”

“Dogs like salt and acid,” said Hank. “Sweat is both. Go shower. Then you are having chicken and eggy rice with tofu and peas. The boring stuff actors eat when they’re gonna play Superman in a movie.”

“Can I have soy sauce on my eggs? Because, tofu, y’know?”

“Of course, Pete,” said Hank. “They eat to get a look; you’re eating to be healthy. You don’t need to worry about water weight; I think that’s why they can’t have salt. You can have whatever you want in addition. We want meat on you. Go shower, you’ve been at it for six hours, and you smell.”

Peter washed off in the very hot water, letting his muscles relax. He dried off and put on new sweats and his mask. In the kitchen, he ate a load of food along with leftover stuffing and a slice of turkey with cranberry sauce. Afterward, Hank said, “The kids got this stupid video game where it’s all choose your own adventure in homeownership. I don’t get it. They love it. Two hours, napping and playing that stupid game.”

Peter went up to the media room and found a lot of people watching the giant screen, Johnny and Bobby were curled together in a beanbag. Kitty was shouting at the screen, “I hate our interior designer. You’re the worst, Susan.”

“Y’know,” he said, finding an empty beanbag, “Hank said it was a sandbox game about homeownership. I thought he was joking.”

“Did he actually say ‘sandbox?’” asked Alisa.

“No, but that’s what he meant,” said Peter. “How do we call next? Can you die?”

“We’re just taking it in fifteen-minute turns. You’re forth in line. But some decisions we make together,” said Kitty. “There’s only one playable character, so we are all sharing the same FICO score. So, like, if we want to take a loan, we have to talk about it.”

“You have a credit score?” asked Peter.

“A really good credit score,” said Bobby. “But we also own a junky car because what the loan would do to our score wasn’t worth the benefit of a new car. It’s not reliable enough to go on road trips, but we can get around town.”

“This is like Sims on speed,” said Peter. Lucky came and settled next to him. He watched until it was his turn and said, “I’m gonna work hard so we can get a promotion and get money to paint the house.”

A little while after his turn, Bruce came in and looked around, “There are so many of you in here, it’s gotten warm. Spidey, you rested? We wanna get you on a pummel horse for your upper body and core.”

Standing, Peter said, “Don’t change the house color.” 

Bruce looked at it and said, “Red with blue shutters?”

“It’s classy,” said Peter.

“It got us an angry note from the HOA,” corrected Bobby.

Peter spent the next five hours on the pommel horse, taking breaks to dry and chalk his hands, for drinks, the bathroom and to change the music. Lucky spent most of his time sitting on Hank’s feet. He loved Hank. Peter got it: he loved Hank too.

At one point, he was lying on the floor in the gym when his phone made the Skype noise. Peter groaned and said, “If someone loves me, please don’t make me stand up.” Bruce brought him his phone, and he said, “I love you, too, Bruce.” He answered, saying, “Hey, Shuri.”

“Why are you so ugly?” she asked.

“In general?” asked Peter.

“You’re sweaty and weird looking.”

“I’m lying on the floor at rehab, considering death as an alternative to getting back on the pommel horse,” he explained. 

“Rehab at the Xavier School?” she asked. 

“One and only. And it’s a long weekend event,” he breathed out, “Gosh, I’m exhausted. What are you up to?”

“Running diagnostics on the new Black Panther suit. I’m about to prank my brother, and it’s going to be amazing. If you’re very quiet, you can watch.” Peter nodded enthusiastically and sat up. 

Bruce came and sat next to him, “Hello, Shuri, may I watch?”

“Hello, Bruce, you have to be quiet.” 

Hank sat down on Peter’s other side, “We’ve never met.”

“Dr. McCoy, you have to be very quiet,” said Shuri. T’Challa came, and she told him off for wearing sandals in her lab she showed him sneakers and made a joke about sneaking that made Peter bite his lip not to laugh. Then she showed him a suit that came out of a necklace, which was amazing. She told him to hit it, told him off for hitting it and then said, “The nanites absorb the kinetic energy and hold it in place for redistribution.” Peter felt his jaw drop. He exchanged excited looks with Bruce and Hank. Bruce actually had a hand to his mouth, stifling his anticipatory giggles.

T’Challa looked directly at Peter and asked, “Are you recording this?” Peter realized that she must have been using her crazy bracelet to Skype and had turned off her projection of him. 

“For research purposes,” she said. 

T’Challa hit the suit and flew across the room, hitting the wall, “Delete that footage.” Peter couldn’t keep it in anymore and started laughing. Getting up, T’Challa said, “Who is that? Are you broadcasting this?” He came to her, and Peter saw fingers coming to him and then T’Challa said, “Peter Parker?” His voice was half angry, “Honestly, you two!”

“Hi, T’Challa,” said Peter. “You’re new suit is neat.”

T’Challa seemed to pause and then said, “Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look terrible, and you’re flanked by two amazing doctors.”

“I don’t have an M.D.,” said Bruce.

“You don’t need one,” said T’Challa.

“I’m at rehab,” Peter said. “I’ve been on a pummel horse for five hours. You try looking good after five hours of gymnastics.” 

Nodding T’Challa said, “I couldn’t.”

Peter laughed and shook his head, “Nah, it’s fun. I should get back to it. Sorry you hit the wall so hard.”

“My sister is mean.”

Peter laughed, “Yeah, but she’s also awesome. I’ll let you go ice your head.” They disconnected, and he went to the horse, swinging onto it. “Guy dies. He goes to hell. Satan meets him and says, ‘You were bad enough to get down here but not that bad so you can pick how you’ll be tortured for eternity.’ He takes him down a hall, he opens a door.” Peter started swinging his legs over, doing twists and splits, getting his hands off the bars at the right time. “The guy sees people being whipped. And he says no, he doesn’t want that. Satan takes him to the next room, people are being used like cattle, pulling plows through a field, and he doesn’t think he could take the labor for eternity. So he asks to see the next room. There, people are sitting in chairs and have vomit but to their waists and they’re drinking coffee and eating danishes, and he thinks, ‘Wow, could be way worse.’ So, he says to Satan, ‘I’ll take this one.’” Peter swung his legs up, holding himself perpendicular to the horse, planking over it. He took one hand off the bar and held it out to the side, holding himself up one-handed before allowing himself to catch the bar and start swinging his legs again. “Satan looks disbelieving and says, ‘Really? This room? We have hundreds more to go.’ Guy is resolute, ‘No, this one is for me.’ Satan says okay, bids the guy adieu. The guy gets a cup of coffee, finds himself a seat and a demon calls out, ‘Coffee-break is over. Get back on your heads.’” He swung up into a handstand. 

Bruce laughed and said, “Y’done?”

“With the horse or with whining about the horse?” asked Peter. Then he said, “Neither.” He lowered his legs backward, stretching painfully. His feet met the horse, behind his head, like a contortionist. He stood up straight. “Trying to get bendy again. It helps with balance.” He kept going and going and going. 

At the end of the weekend, Hank said, “Homework. Start swinging. No Spider-Manning — no heroics — just start swinging around Queens. No buildings higher than four stories, no hours-long jaunts into Midtown, no acrobatics. You stick to your borough and close-ish to the ground.”

“Y’mean it, Hank? Y’really mean it? I can swing?”

“Swing, Peter,” he stressed, “no flourishes.”

“Hank, you have no idea how much that means. Swinging is the base of all of it. Swinging is the most base part of the fun. Helping is great, but swinging is being truly free. You’re free from the ground, from gravity, from anything but wind in your ear. Having this is key to me being me, not Spider-Man, just me.”

“If anything hurts you stop. If you have any problem, any problem at all, you call me.” Peter threw himself at Hank to hug the hell out of him.

May came in while he was mid-hug. “Good news?”

“I’m allowed to swing, only four stories off the ground, no flips, no heroing but swinging, May. Actually swinging in the wild.”

She smiled, “That’s amazing, sweetie. I want to talk to Reed about your internship because the days are getting shorter and I don’t want you swinging in the dark, so I think we have to make some adjustments to your schedule.” 

Peter started swinging the very next day, an hour after getting home, just gentle swinging. He tried to swing up to a roof for a snack — held in his black JanSport — but wiped out badly. His suit stopped him from skinning his knees. He ate his deli sandwich on the roof’s edge, swinging his legs, happy. He swung his way home and stopped a few blocks away to change into his regular clothes. He went home and, twenty minutes later, his phone dinged with an alert. He had set up Super-Man news alerts. He saw it was a YouTube video with the title, “Spider-Man Wipes Out.” He saw it was a street view of his hitting the roof. He reposted the link on all his profiles with the simple note, “I don’t care if everyone is laughing. Swinging is amazing. I’m not up to Spidering again, but at least I’m eating sandwiches on rooftops. #TrueGoals #LiveYourBestLife”. 

Mr. Storm got out of prison, and Peter never got the chance to meet him. He got out Tuesday. Peter went swinging, planning to give them a private night. He texted Johnny to see how it was going, and Johnny texted back, “He said he has to figure some stuff out. I gave him one of my cars. I wanted him to stay, but he said he had to go.” Reading the words broke Peter’s heart. 

He went to May and said, “Mr. Storm didn’t stay. Johnny gave him a car and he left. Can you drive me to midtown or should I get an Uber? I know it’s almost nine but… Johnny needs me.” 

“Of course, sweetie. You put on PJs and pack for the morning. I’ll talk to Sue. He’s her father too.”

An hour later he was on Johnny’s bed. Johnny was in his funny footie pajamas. “I was so worried about not knowing him and — it turns out — he doesn’t want to know me.”

“Maybe he really does just need a little time,” said Peter.

Johnny shrugged, “I guess.”

“What car did you give him?” asked Peter.

“My ‘67 Firebird,” said Johnny, sniffing hard. “I figured a little piece of me could go with him.”

“I hope he comes back,” said Peter.

With another shrug and a very forced smile, Johnny said, “I hope I get my car back.”

Peter hugged him and said, “I’m sorry, Johnny.”

“It was real nice of you to come over,” said Johnny. “I know that school nights are sacred in the Parker household."

“We’re five blocks from school,” said Peter. “I’m actually just being selfish.”

Johnny gave him a small smile. “You’re very bad at being selfish.” He picked up his phone and said, “MJ and Ned need to know that you won’t be with them in the morning.” He looked away from Peter, focusing on the screen as he texted to buy a moment to compose himself.

“I’m so sorry, Johnny,” said Peter.

“I’m not ready to cry it out, Pete, maybe he really is coming back. Maybe he didn’t just leave in my favorite car with no intention of coming back.”

“Maybe,” agreed Peter. “How can I help?”

“Just be my friend. That’s all. I need my friend.”

Nodding Peter said, “PlayStation, LEGO?”

“It’s past your bedtime,” said Johnny.

“We’re literally five blocks from school; I can be up a little longer.”

“I just bought a whole bunch of old, worthless, out of order, non-iconic Superman comics from the early seventies. There was a box for twenty-four bucks with free shipping on eBay. Wanna read ‘em?”

“Sure,” said Peter. Johnny pulled them out and put them into a vague order. He handed some to Peter, and they both relaxed on their backs on the bed. 

A while later, Sue popped her head around the door, “I was gonna tell you to stop the party.”

“It’s a low-key party, but the art is awesome,” said Johnny.

“It’s late for Peter on a school night,” said Sue.

“How are you doing, Sue?” asked Peter.

She shrugged, “I didn’t have high hopes.”

“He’s coming back,” said Johnny.

“Yeah, Jon,” she agreed gently. “He’s coming back. Right now, it’s bedtime.” She came and kissed them both on the forehead, “I love you both, sleep tight.”

“Love you too,” they chorused as they put aside their comics and climbed into bed. When the lights were off, Johnny said, “Your house has two bedrooms. We have five empty ones.”

“Well, I need a warm weight in my bed, and Lucky is in Queens. So, suck it up: I’m staying.” Despite Johnny’s words, Peter put an arm around him and Johnny didn’t shrug him off. “Sleep well.” 

*** 

He kept healing. It was two weeks before Christmas. He’d been working so hard. And Hank had told him he was allowed to push it. There was a really fun viral challenge. People were drawing songs. The song would play, and they would sketch it out, paint or do spin art. One girl speed-knitted a picture of the song. Lost of people did sped-up videos, but Peter thought the real-time ones were more impressive. He wanted to do that and practiced like crazy. Once he was ready, he had Johnny film it. Mr. Storm had yet to resurface, but Johnny seemed in better spirits.

Peter spoke in his Spider-Man voice and said, “Hey, I’m Spider-Man, and that’s Johnny Storm,” Johnny turned the phone on himself and waved. “This is the Picture It challenge. I think I am back. We are streaming live, and we’re gonna know by the end of this video if I am right.”

He launched off the building, and Johnny started playing the song. “The snow glows white on the mountain tonight, not a footprint to be seen. A kingdom of isolation, and it looks like I'm the queen.” He swung between two buildings, making a giant, intricate snowflake. The song ended, and the next one started up. People had been doing only one, but that wasn’t a test. He swung to the next building and saw a brief flash of fire out of the corner of his eye as Johnny made the change.

The next song started immediately. “Give me a second I, I need to get my story straight. My friends are in the bathroom, getting higher than the Empire State.” He wove a picture of a bar stool with a pair of sunglasses on top of it. The song finished and he leaped to the next building.

“Robert's got a quick hand. He'll look around the room, he won't tell you his plan. He's got a rolled cigarette, hanging out his mouth he's a cowboy kid,” Peter spun a pair of sneakers between the buildings. Johnny started singing the world’s most catchy song about school shootings.

“All you other kids with the pumped up kicks, you better run, better run. Outrun my gun,” Johnny sang. Then he said, “I kinda thought this song was old, like post-Columbine but pre our generation being systematically wiped out in classrooms across America. But no, it was totally written while kids were getting gunned down.” 

Breathing evenly as he did the laces, Peter said, “Had a nightmare about a shooting the other night. I had to be Spider-Man without my mask so everyone in the classroom I was locked in knew I was Spider-Man and my best friend was killed, and I got a flesh wound and I didn’t want to leave the room because I knew that everyone was gonna know I’m me and I was going to have to find out who else was dead and I wasn’t sure if there was another shooter. I was scared, in pain and heartbroken. I woke up and found the dog was sleeping awkwardly on my bad leg. My leg is still wrong. Hurt so bad it made me dream a school shooting.” He finished tying the shoes. He sprung to the next building as the next song started. 

“I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told. I have squandered my resistance for a pocket full of mumbles, such are promises.” Peter quickly wove a boxer in a ring.

He sprung to the next building. “Where have all the good men gone and where are all the gods? Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds? Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed? Late at night, I toss, and I turn and I dream of what I need.” He quickly wove a Batman symbol with the Superman sigil inside it. 

He swung to the next building. “Reach out and touch faith. Your own personal Jesus. Someone to hear your prayers. Someone who cares.” It was the very first song on his rehab playlist, and it had felt important for Peter to include it even though it didn’t have an obvious picture for it. He wove praying hands with a rosary.

Leaping to the next building, Johnny started singing, “Spider-Man, Spider-Man, does whatever a spider can. Spins a web any size, catches thieves just like flies.” Peter spun a spider on a web. Johnny finished singing the song that now had five verses. Peter fell back on the web for a moment and then bounced back to his feet.

Not winded in the least he said, “Johnny, I’m back.”

“You’re back; you’re not even out of breath,” Johnny laughed happily.

Peter bounced into the roof, doing a backflip before landing on his feet and hugging Johnny. “Almost six months of rehab and I’m back. My leg aches but I can totally push through, no faltering, I’m not so exhausted I need to vomit. I’m back. I think my leg just aches and it’s never gonna go away, and I need to accept that. I feel pretty great about this.” 

Johnny laughed and turned off the camera in the phone, “You’re back and I have to call your mother because Operation Party Time is now go.” If Peter was in a mask he was Spider-Man, and Spider-Man didn’t have an aunt, he had a mom.

“Operation Party Time?” asked Peter.

“There is homemade food frozen at the Mansion, my apartment, your house and at the Sanctum Sanctorum ready and waiting for today. We’re gonna party like it’s nineteen nighty-nine.” He called May as Peter published the video on every profile he had, happy at sharing the good news.

He sent it to Hank and Bruce with a simple note, “It’s all because of you.”

Johnny said, “I am going back to the Baxter Building, want to come?”

“No, I am swinging home. All the freaking way home.”

“You sure?” asked Johnny.

“I’ll have Karen send a message if I have a problem. Promise.” He hugged Johnny again, “You’re an amazing friend.” 

“I am,” agreed Johnny. “You’re pretty amazing. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

It took slightly longer than usual, but he got home and smiled at May, “Did you see?”

“I saw, and Johnny texted my superphone. How did it feel?”

“I swung home. It felt amazing. It all felt amazing. My body feels so normal.” He lifted her in a hug. “I feel like me. It feels amazing to be physically me again. That video: that was the first time you’ve seen me being me since Steve Rogers broke my leg. This me. Now, do you see why falling so many times in rehab was so hard?”

She nodded but said, “Sweetie, this weekend, you’re sewing, or I am sewing, a second spider suit.”

“What’s wrong with my suit?”

“Nothing, you’re suit is warm, fire-resistant and bulletproof. It also kinda smells. And I know you didn’t have a female influence before, but now that I’m in the know, that thing has to go through the wash every four days; ‘cause you are doing hardcore exercise and sweaty.”

“Ouch,” said Peter. “Luck, do I smell?” Lucky stepped on his foot and, finding a hard clog sat to be patted. “Such a good boy.” He crouched to stroke the dog.

“Give me the mask so I can wash and dry it before tonight,” said May. 

Peter handed it over, “It’s not bad.”

“It’s bad enough,” said May.

Peter went to take a shower and brought the sweats down to the living room. “It’s nice to be able to do this here instead of hiding away.”

“I just thought you were masturbating a lot, you are a teenage boy,” she said.

“May!” he exclaimed.

“It’s perfectly healthy,” she said.

“May!” he repeated. He started to cut and sew things together. The bulletproof material, the Ove’ Glove material and the sweats. He had to focus hard to make sure the lines were straight.

He had just finished with the pants when May said, “Get changed, sweetie, maybe one of your cool porotype Spider-Man shirts being released in the spring. That’s fun. It’s like you’re wearing your suit but more casual.”

“Is there really good food?”

“All of your favorites and all of your friends,” said May.

“Awesome,” he said, before going to change. They picked up MJ and Ned on the way. He got congratulatory hugs from both of them. At the school, there were already appetizers and delicious fruit punch. 

When Jessica came, Lucky jumped up to greet her, “Hey, Pizza Dog, good to see you. Are you Spider-Man’s now?”

“He is,” agreed Peter.

He hugged Jessica, and she said, “So, you’re back?”

“I’m back,” agreed Peter. Jessica wasn’t great at hugs, but she attempted one.

“Sorry I offered you whiskey when you got stabbed. I didn’t realize you were thirteen.”

“I’m sixteen now, actually,” Peter corrected, jokingly.

“Sixteen,” she said, singsong. “Did you get a learner’s permit?” He nodded, “Usually people make that stupid joke about, ‘I guess I’ll stay off the road then.’ But for one thing it’s a bad joke, for another I don’t drive and, most importantly, I assume you’ll stay at speed limit, indicate and obey all the rules. Being good and responsible is sort of your thing.”

“Well, I do my best,” he shrugged. 

Kitty came and put her arms around his neck, “There is limbo, and you are back to being as absurdly flexible, so why don’t you come win?”

Peter said, “I’ll catch up with you later, Jess.”

He didn’t win, one of the little kids won, but that was the way party games were supposed to go when young children were involved. He ate delicious things all night. The entire spread was filled with stuff he loved. He ate happily, hung out with all his friends. As the guest of honor, he spent time with everyone. There were a lot of people who didn’t know his name or face. He introduced May, avoiding their last name. Instead, he would say, “This is my mom, May.”

There was dancing, more food. It was late when May said, “I’m taking Ned and MJ home, I don’t have an excuse for their mothers, but you have fun okay?” she hugged him, and he hugged her back. “So proud of you, sweetie. You worked so hard. You have fun. Hank said he wants more rehab. You’re gonna be in rehab for a long time, but at least you feel amazing.”

“I feel amazing,” he agreed. His mask was turned up because he’d been eating all night, he kissed her cheek.

She smiled, “You earned this. Stay up too late, eat everything you want: tonight is yours. And Monday, you’re gonna start patrolling so have fun tonight.” She kissed his cheek, “Love you, honey.”

He said goodnight to MJ and Ned, before rejoining the party. May took Lucky with her. They danced and ate. The little kids went to bed, they kept going. At one point Charles said, “Kids, it’s four in the morning. I’m shutting this down. Someone find Spider-Man and Johnny PJs. Johnny, share Spidey’s bed.” People laughed, and Johnny saluted. “Adults, feel free to stay if you’re drunk or just don’t feel like going home.”

Upstairs, Bobby gave them both PJs and said, “Spidey, go brush your teeth or something. I need to make out with my boyfriend for a minute before Mr. Summers comes up and shouts, ‘Leave room for Jesus.’”

“Night,” said Peter, before going into his room. It was nice that he had a room. His toothbrush from when he stayed was still on the sink.

He washed his face, changed and was brushing his teeth when the door to the room flew open and Jean said, “Hands above the equator. Go to bed, Johnny.”

Johnny smiled at Peter, a cat that got the canary grin, “Worth it.” Peter laughed before spitting.

“There are wrapped toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet,” said Peter.

The next day was all exercise, and Johnny drove them home midafternoon with huge trays of leftovers. And he got a group text from Ned with MJ and Johnny. “It was nice meeting your friends last night but how about a just us diner dinner tonight?”

After reading it silently, Peter said, “Diner dinner with MJ and Ned to celebrate?”

“Hell yeah,” agreed Johnny. “I miss the splash pad.”

“Me too,” said Peter. “We have so, so, so many leftovers. Like so many leftovers.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re having leftovers, not diner. Those stuffed cheeseburger slider things are so good. Do you mind if we stop by my place? I want underwear.”

“Sure,” said Peter. Johnny wove in and out of traffic, perfectly in control as always as Peter texted them and May.

They brought the trays up to refrigerate while Johnny changed. Soon enough, they were in the kitchen, and Sue kissed his forehead and said softly, “I drank so much that I have a hangover. I think I put away four bottles of wine by myself. I am so happy you’re back on form, but I need you to keep your voice down.” He nodded silently. “Thank you, honey.”

In Johnny’s room, Peter flopped back on the bed. “It was fun.”

“It was,” agreed Johnny as he changed. “I have like a sober hangover. Is that, like, a thing?”

“Tired and dehydrated,” agreed Peter.

“Great party,” said Johnny. He held out a hand and pulled Peter to his feet. “So, quiet weekend before hitting the ground?”

“Yeah, I’m sewing a new suit because May was saying something about hygiene and needing to wash it once in a while.” He said, “Guess I should check social media, huh?”

“Seriously? You posted the coolest comeback video since Justin brought Sexy Back and you didn’t look at your feedback? Dude, everything I do on social I do for the retweets.”

“You love playing shallow, it’s a really deep portrayal,” said Peter. He logged into his accounts and blinked, “What do you do when you have literally hundreds of thousands of notifications? In fact,” he clicked through, “on all the platforms it’s close to a million.”

“Close to a million notes in under twenty-four hours? You gloat at going viral. That’s what you do: gloat.” 

Looking at his DMs, he said, “God, people write filthy things about me. I’m a kid.” He typed fast, “To everyone who slid into my DMs and said gross things about me: I am a child. Under the age of consent. It’s inappropriate, illegal and pedophilic.” He saw he got tagged in a tweet immediately.

“Hey @ActualSpiderMan we slid into your DMs but feel free to delete them all without reading the filth. Just call us; you know the number. Or forward the messages. They committed a crime. But if you would rather not look at them, delete the lot.” It was from @PatrolBoroughQueens. That made Peter smile. 

“Cops want to talk to me,” he told Johnny. 

“So few people can say that happily,” replied Johnny. 

“Can you look through this filth and see if there is anything I want to read? You like filth.”

“Dude, free filth. Come on, you’re not even a little interested?”

“If MJ sent one, cool. But this is just gross. I don’t know them; I don’t like them. I never understood dick pics, and now my messages are filled with body parts.”

Johnny pulled out his own phone and spoke as he typed, “To everyone who sent Spidey images of your body, you know he is a minor. I’m cleaning out his DMs to save his poor innocent eyes, but I’m forwarding your photos to the police because y’knew what you were doing was illegal. What you did was a felony.” He went through Peter’s inbox, sometimes laughing. After twenty minutes he handed the phone back, “Porn, innuendo and spite free. There were hundreds of messages. Now there is sixty left. There were literally only sixty nice and non-pornographic ones.”

“Thank you for your help.” Smiling, he started to read the other messages.

Johnny shrugged, “Free porn.” 

He saw the one from the police. “Spidey, you look amazing flying again! It was so great to see you, and you crushed that challenge. We want to have a long sit down before you go back to active heroing. You’re amazing, and we thought you were an adult. Now we know that you’re a kid, we need a few ground rules. You should be so proud of yourself for all you have accomplished and all you will accomplish. We want to help you accomplish it. Diner meal together Monday after school? On us. We want to catch up. Call us. Please don’t do any heroing without talking to us.” 

He saw a new tweet that read, “@FlamingHotJohnny just sent us so much porn through Spider-Man’s account. He is a child. You all committed a felony. Don’t worry @ActualSpiderMan, minors don’t have to testify when it’s all digitally tracked.”

Peter just shook his head and retweeted it with the note, “Not even back on patrol and I’m already kinda making citizens arrests. Don’t send pictures of your bathing suit area to kids, citizens.”

Someone retweeted it with the note, “Just realized the absurdity of the fact that a fifteen-year-old has been using the collective noun ‘citizens’ for ages and none of us blinked.”

The cops quickly retweeted it and added, “And next time a sewer blows and he ends up redirecting people from a bird’s-eye view he’ll do it again. And again, you will not blink. #ThankYouSpiderMan #YoureWelcomeCitizens.”

“The cops are having way too much fun. Y’wanna go?” asked Peter, still typing responses to the nice messages he had received. In the kitchen, he spoke softly to Sue. “Do you want some of the leftovers?” 

“No, sweetie, thank you. It was a really fun party,” she kissed his forehead, “So happy you’re back.” 

“I’ll come over for breakfast and intern time tomorrow, but I am meeting the cops Monday afternoon,” He gave her a light hug as Johnny got the trays from the fridge. One tray clanged against the door, and Sue winced, “Four bottles?”

“It might have been closer to six,” she said. “I sobbed through that video, sweetie. I’m sorry your leg hurts, but I’m so glad that you’re feeling like your old self. You looked amazing. And you looked like you were having so much fun.”

“So much fun,” he agreed. “I’m gonna swing over here tomorrow morning. We’re gonna go now; good luck with your hangover.”

“Be home later,” Johnny promised and hugged her. They drove back to Queens, listening to Peter’s Spotify. “So no more sleepovers for rides?” asked Johnny.

“I mean, I like the rides, but I can do a whole subway trip without needing to sit down. I also liked the sleepovers; you’ve been a really, really good friend to me while I’ve been a mess. I can swing from midtown to Queens easily. My leg is never going to stop hurting one hundred percent, but I’m back.”

“Dude, race bets with food for the winner,” Johnny said longingly.

“Race bets,” Peter groaned. “I’ve missed being me.”

“It’s been lonely, when I’ve flown around and not seen you on the roofs.”

“Yeah, but I have to obey a curfew.”

“Well, you are sixteen,” Johnny shrugged. “And my sister is always with me when I’m out late at night. My guardian is watching me when I’m getting punched in the face.” They pulled up to the house. It was so prettily decorated from the street, and Peter loved seeing the Christmas lights in the dark. “I love your house. It’s exactly what you expect Spider-Man’s house to be, y’know?”

“Strangely, I understand exactly what you mean.” Peter smiled as they walked up the path, which he had re-gritted four times. From the door, he called, “Hey, May! Luck,” he whistled, and Lucky ran up, jumping to put his paws on Peter’s shoulder and nuzzled his face, “Hi, boy, missed you too.” He stroked Lucky vigorously. “Such a good boy, Lucky.” There were garlands festooned on the hall’s walls. 

“Hey, May?” Johnny called as he took off his salty boots by the door, “Does Peter have to be home at nine on Friday and Saturday?”

She came into the hall and said, “Hi, May. How are you? How was the rest of your night?”

“Hi, May, how are you?” asked Johnny. Then he added, “You look very pretty. Sue’s hungover and has awful bags under her eyes. You look well-rested, and your hair is very glossy and very straight.” They walked through the house, passed more garlands, paper chains, the Christmas tree, the hung stockings, the snow globes and the paper stars hung from the ceiling to the fully decorated kitchen to put the food away.

“Ten thirty on Friday. Twelve twenty-five on Saturday.”

“That’s specific,” said Johnny.

“I like the cold opening on SNL and I like Weekend Update. Weekend Update is over by twelve twenty-five, and I can’t be bothered to stay up until one AM to see the rest of the show. I want to see my kid before I go to bed so I know he’s alive, unharmed and eating a snack in the kitchen. Peter doesn’t have a bedtime on Friday or Saturday so you can come hang out here, but my sixteen-year-old is going to be under our roof before I go to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am, thank you for his later weekend curfew.”

“I like that I didn’t have to play a role in that conversation,” said Peter.

“How was the rest of the party?” asked May.

“It was good,” said Peter. “A lot of people got very, very, very drunk. We danced. We ate. Johnny got to, like, third base with Bobby.”

Johnny laughed, “Not third base, more like almost second base, but Jean was super overreacting.”

“Hands under clothes?” asked May. 

“I mean, yeah, but not like in a way that would make a bystander go hysterically blind from seeing it,” said Johnny. “I mean, we were on the landing for goodness sakes. Nothing too scandalous happens on landings.”

May just laughed. “I’m glad you all had fun.” Looking at the five trays, May said, “How are we getting through all this?”

“Well, Ned and MJ are coming, and Johnny and I can really attack it. We should be down to two trays, and then we can get through the rest. I mean, it’s all the best foods: everyone made my favorites. It was a really fun party.”

A knock came at the front door, and Peter called, “It’s open.”

MJ called, “Hey. When did the party wrap up?”

“Four this morning,” said Peter. “Early night tonight.”

“Lucky needs sleep,” said May. “He kept wandering between my room and yours. He got into bed with me, would whimper for a while and then go back to your bedroom for a while and then come back.”

“Aww, Lucky,” said Peter, stroking him. Lucky attempted to drape himself over Peter’s lap even though there wasn’t a way for a dog as big as him to sit on Peter when Peter was in a narrow kitchen chair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, boy.” He gently pushed him away and said, “I have got an extra special treat for you.” He pealed to the foil of the trays until he found what he wanted. “Sit.” Lucky did as asked and Peter crouched holding out the homemade pizza bagel. Lucky wagged his tail hard, thumping it down on the floor loudly as Peter said, “Have a treat.” Lucky dove for it and ate it happily. “Good boy. Even when I go away, I come back.” Lucky licked his face, and Peter said, “Oh, brand new pizza breath, thanks, bud.”

“I’m starving, can we dive into leftovers, or are we waiting on Ned?” asked MJ.

“It’s leftovers,” said Peter, “go for it.”

They all started eating and talking, and MJ said, “So how much porn did you look at this afternoon, Johnny?”

“Is this a conversation that the parent should leave the room?” asked May. “Y’know, teenagers look at porn. I might not have grown up with the internet, but I know that all you need to do is subtract eighteen years from the current date and you can look at all the porn you like. And you should be able to talk to the adults in your life about sex. But I know that sometimes teens need to talk amongst peers about these things and-”

“May!” Peter laughed, “Stop, just stop. We weren’t looking at porn.” 

“People DMed Peter with all sorts of photos of themselves,” explained Johnny. “Peter didn’t want to look at them. So I looked at all of them as I forwarded them to the cops. The cops are prosecuting literally over a thousand people for sending porn to a minor. Meanwhile, I looked at so many naked bodies on Peter’s phone, and it was kinda great.”

“The cops tweeted me, they want to take me to a diner meal after school Monday. I figured I could put in some extra hours with Reed tomorrow. And I thought that I could maybe call you and put you on speakerphone so you could be in on it. They said they want ground rules.”

“I like the sound of that. What exactly did they say?”

Peter flicked through his phone and found the DM. “I thought I could call after dinner if you’re good with it.”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed. There was a knock at the door, and she called, “Come in, Ned.”

“Hey,” called Ned. Lucky rushed out of the kitchen to greet him. “Hello, Lucky. Your breath is gross.”

“He’s had three pizza bagels,” Peter called. 

Ned came in and said, “Why are leftovers better than the first round?”

“Proteins break down and make amino acids and those give the food more umami,” said MJ.

“How do you know that?” asked Johnny. 

She shrugged, “You build cars; I read.”

“I always think party leftovers are best because you can really focus on your food,” said Peter. “There’s no mingling, no dancing or music. You can just look at your meal and be happy and not have to eat one-handed ‘cause you’re standing and holding your plate.”

“You had to do extra mingling as the guest of honor,” said Johnny.

“Yeah, so I was even less able to focus on the food,” said Peter. “Which is, like, a large portion of my life.”

“That’s how we became friends,” said Johnny.

That was true. Johnny hadn’t liked him much. He was a no one who kept turning up and saving Johnny’s butt, making him look bad. Johnny had hated him for it. But Peter had given him pretzels or a hotdog each time he embarrassed him. Then they started talking, started laughing, started racing each other for food bets. They had started talking about movies, then video games, then — once they had realized they were both geeks — comics. Then family stress and superhero worries. It had started with food.

“Can you brown up the burgers, please?” said Peter. “They aren’t as good nuked.” He held out his plate and Johnny briefly waved a flaming hand over the patties. “Thank you.”

Johnny spent a lot of the evening reheating things better than the microwave. Finishing dinner, Peter called the precinct he liked, and Annette picked up, “Hi, Annette, it’s Spider-Man.”

“Spider-Man,” she said happily. “We’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. I got the Tweets.”

“You really are a kid. We realized that Twitter was the best way to contact you because we didn’t have your number.”

“This is my number,” he replied.

“I will delete the phone record without looking but-”

“Annette, I’m young, not a moron. This is my burner phone. My mom has one too, just so we can talk to you. Please don’t triangulate the calls.”

“We don’t want to know who you are. We do not want that information any more than you want us to have it. You are not a vigilante. You are a very helpful private citizen, and you have your right to privacy. So, can you do something after school on Monday?”

“Yeah, is it cool if my mom is on speakerphone when we talk?”

“Of course, everyone would be very pleased to have her in the conversation. So, the bosses talked and they wanted to take you out to a post-school late lunch slash early dinner at a diner. They were thinking Sun Hill, Crest House, North Plains or The Sunset Inn or Jamaica House. What’s best for you?”

“Crest House has really good coleslaw,” he said.

“Yeah, but The Sunset Inn has really good pickles,” Annette responded.

He grimaced, “Too much brine not enough vinegar.”

“I prefer salt to sharp,” she replied. “But I’m not going to be there. So does three-thirty at Crest House work for you?”

“Three-thirty at Crest House?” he looked at May, and she nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great, it really is wonderful to hear your voice.”

Peter smiled into the phone, “I missed you too, Annette. It feels really good to be back.” He hung up and said, “Three-thirty at Crest House. I’m back.”

“You have to sew another suit,” reminded May. 

“I’m partway done,” said Peter. 

“You’re gonna finish between breakfast with the Fantastics, extra hours at your internship, Skyping with Clint and your homework?”

“I’ll work on it while watching SNL,” said Peter. “I’ll have it done by Wednesday night.” Then he said, “Johnny, you can’t sleep over.”

“I wasn’t planning to, but I get it,” said Johnny.

When they finished dinner, Peter said, “I better get stitching.”

“I better go make a cameo at my house,” said Johnny. “I’m sure my sister would like a little one on one time with me. It’s been a while. There’s a new baking show.”

“Why baking shows?” asked May.

“The people in them think it’s life and death,” said Johnny. “It’s hilarious. We have to fight alien threats toward other aliens on alien planets, that’s what the Fantastics spend so much time doing. And these people think that their icing not setting is the end of the world. It’s strangely soothing to watch people crying over problems so small that they are enviable. We wish our biggest problem was bad icing. We watch a lot of them. But not the mean-spirited ones. There’s enough spite in our lives without watching people be mean about other people’s bad icing. We like the English ones where all the contestants are nice to each other and help each other when they panic over the bad icing.”

“Thank you for eating three-fifths of the leftovers. Now I can fit everything in the fridge,” said May.

“You guys want a ride?” asked Johnny.

“Yes please,” said MJ.

They all left, having thanked May for having them, and May said, “We have an episode of Grey’s on the DVR. Want to chill out in front of a really stupid show that isn’t about icing?”

“Yeah, I’m tired from last night. Sewing and watching Meredith Grey try to date is about the right speed.” They put the left over leftovers in the fridge and settled into the evening in the living room.

They turned the tree lights, garland lights and snow globe lights on. “Y’want a fire?” asked May.

“Nah, we’re not going to stay up late enough for it to burn out. Leave the light on in the kitchen and I’ll have enough to sew by but we can enjoy the Christmas lights.” They watched the TV. Lucky kept trying to get into his lap and Peter snapped his fingers and said, “Go to May. I love you, go to May.” May patted the couch and Lucky jumped up to rest his head on her lap. He cut material and carefully sewed the layers together. He measured the old suit as he worked. He sewed his new goggles into his new mask and said, “Imma have to get used to having two sets of goggles.” He tested the tiny knob on the side to adjust them.

“Did you make those?” asked May. “I don’t recognize them.”

“I feel kinda bad about my internship. I spend most of my time doing homework, working on Spider-Man, eating snacks and then, like, half an hour working on my actual research. I made these in the lab last week.”

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “See, here’s the thing. The Stark internship was just a grown man lying to me while you endangered your life with no real back up and did maybe five minutes of research a week. So, if the Richards internship is two and a half hours of research a week and then hours of mentorship, homework, comradery and proper prep work before endangering your life, then I’m fine with it. I much prefer your current internship to the one with the bastard. This one is with people who care about you and want you to succeed. I wouldn’t worry too much about your internship. Reed doesn’t.”

“I feel bad though. ‘Cause, like, MJ and Ned do real research.”

“Oh my God, are they secretly teenage superheroes?” asked May with fake shock. “Let MJ and Ned focus on internships. You focus on being safe. Look, you’ve got good grades; you’ve got amazing internships: you’ll get into college. I’m not concerned about college. I’m not that concerned about your future at all. You have almost sixty million dollars getting interest every day. For all we know, you paid off the house and you already have the money back. I’m not concerned.” The X-Men had his money and Peter paid no attention to it. Nor did May, let the X-Men watch it. He and May had more important things to think about. “I want you to be happy. If swinging and heroing makes you happy then fully embrace it and let your polymer be your side chick. You don’t need a job. Be brilliant as a hobby.”

“Can you not call science my side chick?” said Peter with a laugh. “Can you actually not say ‘side chick’ at all?” He finished with the mask and started to sew the snaps into the lower layer of sweatshirt so that he could remove the upper layer in warm weather.

“Don’t you get hot in that?” she asked.

“It’s cold swinging around and it’s windy high up. And when you’re exercising, you expect to get sweaty. The biggest problem is dehydration, sweating too much during a fight. The good news is, now that everyone knows I’m a kid, I can carry a backpack with water in it. And, also, as promised, I will do my absolute best to never get involved with super villains ever again. But, I mean, if Ock is about to blow up New York and no other superhero can possibly get there-”

The show paused. And Peter looked away from his sewing. May was holding the remote and looking at him seriously. “You run away. I’m serious, Peter, I’m letting you go out to fight muggers in a bulletproof suit. I’m not letting you get into throwdowns with supervillains. I’ll take away the suit and the web shooters and I will put bars on your windows. You are allowed to hit back if they get to you, of course, you can defend yourself. But, if you ever, ever, willingly get into it with them while you are under the age of twenty-two, you lose the suit.”

“Twenty-two?” he asked.

“Same age as when the X-Men let kids be full members. You got way too little supervision when you started. Twenty-two,” she said firmly.

He nodded, “I’m scared of super villains,” he admitted. He looked back at his sewing. He could talk and sew at the same time. May didn’t hit play. 

“If you weren’t scared I would worry about head injuries,” said May.

“I think Johnny isn’t as scared,” said Peter, still sewing.

“He’s two years older and every time he steps into a fight he does so with his family at his side and watching his back,” said May gently.

“Sometimes it worries me that he’s not scared enough,” said Peter. “Not enough self-preservation.”

May sighed and said, “He really does need a little more self-esteem.”

“An ‘atta boy’ from his dad would do a lot but I’m almost positive his dad stole his car and Johnny’s never gonna see him or his ‘67 Firebird ever again… shame about the car but anyone who doesn’t want to know Johnny isn’t worth Johnny’s time. I’ve never met him; I don’t know his mind; I don’t know what it’s like to be in prison for over a decade. But I miss Dad and I miss Ben and it isn’t fair that Johnny has to miss his dad when the man is breathing. And, I’m not a parent but I think, personally, when I have a kid I am going to put him or her in front of my needs. And I get that he needs time to get himself together after prison but Johnny needs to be allowed to get to know his dad. Don’t you think that once you’re a grown-up with a kid you have to be cognizant of how much power you have over that person? Am I wrong?”

May leaned forward, careful not to jostle Lucky to stroke Peter’s hair. He turned away to look at her, the move made him think she had a real answer. “When you were seven, Ben was offered a job in Trinidad and Tobago. It was a good job, way more money, beautiful country. It would have been a huge adventure and a way better bank account balance.”

“Why didn’t we go?” asked Peter, turning on the floor to look at her.

“Because your parents had been dead for eighteen months?” She shrugged. “Because you had a best friend and the Mets were having a good season? There was no way we could go then. We weren’t taking you away from Ned or the Mets. You needed stability and even though it would have been a really good thing in the long run, you needed to be in Queens. We were in the waiting room not labor and delivery when you came into the world. But when your mom and dad died, we became your parents. We did not have the adventure of a lifetime and Ben passed up a twenty-thousand dollar raise because you needed Ned, and the Mets and for your life to stay at least a tiny bit recognizable.”

“Mets won the Subway Series that year, last year at Shea Stadium. I had a hot dog, and a pretzel and they won.”

She laughed, “We were close to taking out a second mortgage on the house for those tickets.”

“Fun day,” said Peter, smiling at the memory.

“Really fun day. Those tickets were worth it,” said May. “Moving to Trinidad and Tobago would have been amazing. But, staying here was right for you. And we were your parents. You’re right, when you’re a parent — a good parent — you put your children first. You have all the power, every ounce of it, and you have to make choices knowing that. Trinidad and Tobago wouldn’t have been an adventure for you, it would have been stealing the last shreds of your mom and dad from you. You needed Ned and the Mets.”

“Thanks, May.”

“You don’t have to say thank you. You never have to thank me for making choices as your parent. Children don’t have to thank their parents for loving them. That’s a parent’s job. You thank me for making you dinner because I could feed you Froot Loops every night. You thank me for doing your laundry because you know where the washer is. You thank me for rides because you’re old enough to ride the subway. You don’t thank me for Ned and the Mets.”

“The Mets had a good season that year,” said Peter. 

“A really good season,” agreed May. “Mr. Storm should be ashamed of himself.” She hit play and Peter focused on his sewing and the mess that was Amelia Shepherd’s love life.

“I don’t think the tumor was Amelia’s problem with her life. Amelia is the problem with Amelia’s life,” said Peter as the woman on the screen freaked out at a man who was nicer to her than she deserved.

“They kill off everyone on this show, why can’t they kill her?” asked May.

“I miss Lexie,” said Peter.

“And Mark,” said May. Peter started to add the black stitching to the fingerless gloves, adding the grippy cloth to the palms, reinforcing the seams. “They always been fingerless?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’ve left fingerprints on many crime scenes?” she asked.

“I have never been fingerprinted,” said Peter.

“What happens if you get arrested and they take your fingerprints?” she asked.

“Well, I’m guessing they’ll either drop the charges pretty quick or lose Spider-Man’s fingerprints in a jiffy,” said Peter. The show was paused and he looked over his shoulder, “Am I in trouble for glibness?”

“No, honey, I’m just worried about your safety,” said May.

“I’m not, and before you say I haven’t thought it through let me explain you a thing. Cops really like me. They would drop the charges, lose the file, drive me home and read me the riot act all the way here. Even before SHIELD and Steve, I was far less afraid of the Queens cops than Fury. Y’know that the cops of our borough have five times the awards for civic service than any other borough? Every single precinct has a sign saying black lives matter in prominent positions. Queens cops are seven times less likely to perform a stop and frisk than the cops of any other borough. Our cops are competent,, not scary or threatening to teens. If I were to get arrested in Manhattan and my fingerprints hit the system, a cop from Queens would turn up and talk me out of the situation and scream at me all the way home. I’m not afraid of the police and I’m never gonna commit a crime. The worst thing that happens is that it comes out that I’m Spider-Man and I was jay-walking. That would suck but we’re very rich and I have a lot of super friends: we’ll figure it out. I’m more concerned about my private life than about my safety. Because my current safety is significantly improved when I can feel things easily and the gloves hamper that. From a safety point of view: my fingers being covered is a whole heck of a lot more dangerous than my fingerprints being left on something.” He smiled at her, “More questions or can we get back to Bailey’s personal problems?”

“What about fire?” asked May. 

“I spray them with fire-resistant chemicals once a week. And I’m sewing that bullet and stab-proof material inside.”

“Do you think that Dr. Strange could put some sort of a blessing on you?” she asked.

“I don’t think he’s, like, religious,” said Peter, shaking his head.

“I meant some sort of a magical blessing,” she said. “He does magic.”

Peter took his flip phone off the phone, clicked through the contacts to send a text. “Requested, although he might laugh.”

“I would rather he laugh now than for us to find out he could have made you fireproof six months from now when you have a burn.” 

She hit play and Peter turned back to his sewing. He finished his gloves and said, “Ankles and wrists need to be re-seamed but I am so done for the night.” He stood and stretched. “Lucky, move please.” Lucky sat up and gave Peter room. “Thank you.” He sat down just as Maggie and Jackson got into an elevator. “Is this the first elevator scene of the season?”

“It’s gonna be good,” said May with a smile.

“This show is trash,” he said but smiled watching it play out. Peter’s flip phone beeped and he read the text out loud, “‘I could but power like that is from the dark realm and you don’t want to pay that price.’” He sighed, “That’s out.” He texted back his thanks. As the episode finished, he said, “I’m not staying up for SNL. Give me the highlights in the morning?”

“Of course, honey. Sleep well.”

“You want the dog?” he asked.

“Nah, he’s your dog.”

He stood and kissed her cheek and said, “Lucky, bedtime.” Lucky jumped off the couch and Peter said, “Such a good dog.”

“Your only orders that he sits for treats, that he accurately responds to ‘bedtime,’ ‘food,’ and ‘walkies,’ ‘find your toy,’ and that he salutes you when you leave without him. You’re not a hard taskmaster.”

“No, because he’s a good dog, he also responds to snapped fingers and pointing.” Peter kissed her cheek, “Night, May.”

“Night, Pete.”

Lucky followed him up to bed and Peter changed, already half asleep. May had added Christmas tree lights near the ceiling and they looked like stars. Peter liked that she always went way over the top for Christmas. Last year’s had been subdued, still reeling from Ben’s murder. This year it felt a little more normal, it still hurt that he wasn’t there but Peter and May had found their stride. He had come home from school one night to find the lights and paper stars hung up in his room. He loved it. He had gotten clear plastic sheets from a craft store and got white paint. He and May had dribbled white paint all over the sheets and hung them up together. Now it looked like snow was falling in the cityscape on his walls. It was so cool.

He crawled under the covers and Lucky tucked his head under Peter’s chin. “Gosh, you’re a good dog.” Then the sun was too high and Lucky was patting his cheek. Lucky did that when he wanted Peter to wake up. Clint was deaf and Lucky had adapted. Peter was glad, he liked the pats more than barking. “Hey, I’m awake. What time is it? I definitely overslept.” He grabbed his phone and saw it was past noon. “Oh no!” He sprung out of bed and “May! We’re in the PM!” he shouted and he lunged at his drawers to find clean underwear. There was a knock at the door. “I’m decent and I’m freaking out.”

She opened the door, “I spoke to Reed. He called earlier saying that Johnny was dead to the world and called breakfast off. You made that crazy video, had a crazy party, had a rehab session. He canceled breakfast.”

Peter slumped onto the bed, “Thank goodness. I didn’t want to schlep to Manhattan.” Lucky nuzzled his thigh. “You must need a walk real bad.”

“I took him, he’s fine. He just woke you because I asked him to do it.”

Peter stretched, “You gonna judge me if I stay in my PJs until I shower before bed?”

“No judgement from me,” she said, “but the wait staff at Petrini’s might.”

“Petrini’s?” he asked.

“Yeah, reservation for brunch in half an hour. Brush your teeth, wash your face and change your underwear.”

“Why are we going to Petrini’s? That’s like an Easter Sunday spot, not a normal Sunday spot.”

She sat down next to him, stroking Lucky and thought for a moment. “It’s a ‘Peter feels healthy again’ spot.” She smiled at him, “I cried so hard watching that video and not, like, weeping. I mean bawling and wailing. You were so thin, and so badly hurt, and so damaged when I saw you at the Mansion. You were injured and traumatized and now you’re here, embarrassing everyone else who tried to do the Picture It challenge and having so much fun doing it. You’re laughing and dancing and staying up with your friends until four in the morning. You’ve gained weight and height and you’re happy. We celebrated with superheroes. We had your besties hangout last night. Now you and I are going out to Petrini’s to get those awesome fried chicken biscuits with maple butter. We’re getting the blueberry waffles with ricotta. We’re gonna order the eggs in purgatory. And we’re gonna order the linguini. And we’re going to share these plates. I am going to have two mimosas and you’re going to have that raspberry sorbet milkshake thing you love. Because this is bigger than Christmas and Easter combined for me. You feel good. And I know your leg isn’t one hundred percent but you’ve shown incredible maturity in the way you’ve taken that in stride.”

“Pun intended?” asked Peter.

“No. Get dressed,” she patted his leg.

She left and he pulled on clothes before getting ready and then barreling down the stairs, with Lucky, excited, on his heels, “Petrini’s on a normal Sunday in late December.”

“Not a normal Sunday at all, Peter.” They bundled up in coats and walked down to the corner to hail a cab. May would never drive after a mimosa. They climbed into the back and made the ten-block trip quickly. Any other time of the year they would walk, but it was cold, and the cold still made Peter edgy.

They shared an amazing brunch. There was so much good food and Peter drank his milkshake and was happy as May and he talked about school and work and friends. They ended up with a lot of leftovers and May said, “Want to go home and watch a Christmas movie?”

“Yes, please. I’m getting back into my PJs,” said Peter. She paid and they were given all their leftovers into nice black boxes embossed with the restaurant’s logo in gold — no Styrofoam boxes for the patrons of Petrini’s. “Thank you for this, May, it was really, really good.”

“You have worked so hard for months. You earned this. And y’know what? I kinda think I did too. Not the same, obviously, not the same at all. But it’s been hard seeing you down. And now, Christmas coming, you feeling good, school and work being normal: it just feels good.”

“I do feel pretty great,” agreed Peter.

“But, y’know, when you feel less than great, I want to hear about it. Okay?” he nodded and she said, “Mean it, Pete. Don’t bottle things up to protect me, okay?”

“Promise,” he said. “I’m really good right now, and if I start feeling down or my leg starts hurting you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” she said as she put her credit card away. 

They spent the afternoon and evening vegging out. They watched It’s a Wonderful Life, but Peter was on his phone, looking at comments on the video and his profiles. A lot of the comments were about superheroes being afraid of school shootings and he saw that Johnny had responded, “Of course we’re afraid, if you’re a superhero you’re first line. Villains who want to blow up New York are easy. A guy with a gun in a classroom is a whole ‘nother story. Villains are blowing up streets; a school shooter is aiming for the faces of teenagers. And we’re teenagers too but it all falls to us. We’re not bulletproof. Of course we’re afraid. Of course we are.” Peter clicked the heart icon. Before responding to other comments.

He took Lucky for a walk and the same group of little kids he had gotten used to seeing on most walks called, “Hi, Peter, hi, Lucky!”

“Hi, guys!” Peter kept walking. Lucky had gotten used to the kids but they were a bit frantic for him.

Passing Ned’s house, Lucky pulled on the leash. Peter sighed, “We could be home where it’s warmer.” Lucky whined and Peter said, “Fine.” They walked up the stoop and Peter pressed the button for Ned’s apartment.

Mrs. Leeds said, “Hello?”

Peter spoke into the intercom, “Hey, Mrs. Leeds. It’s Peter, Lucky wants to say hi to Ned.”

“I will send him down. Sorry, I’d let you up but with Tommy’s allergies,” she started to explain.

“I totally understand,” agreed Peter. He was okay, under his PJs he was wearing his electric long johns. Ned came down two minutes later, bundled up. “Hey,” said Peter. “Lucky pulled on his leash because he wanted to say hi.” Lucky attempted to put his paws on Ned’s shoulders but his wet, salty booties slipped on Ned’s jacket.

Ned crouched, “Hi, Lucky, it’s good to see you. It’s been almost twenty-four hours so I was desperate to see you too.” He stroked Lucky. “Hi. I’ll walk you guys home.”

They started walking and Peter said, “It’s been a while since it was just us. I mean, Luck is here but he’s not a person.”

“Yeah, we’re losers and now we have four more friends than we did this time last year.”

“I had Johnny and we kinda had MJ, but yeah,” agreed Peter. “Sometimes I sort of miss it,” he admitted.

“Do you miss being normal?”

“I miss Ben,” said Peter. “I don’t miss glasses or asthma. I love swinging and backflips. I miss Ben and I wouldn’t have been out there that night if it weren’t for the bite but… I love my super powers. I love them. I don’t miss my old body but I miss Ben. May and I are vegging out. Did you finish your homework?”

“Yeah.”

“Y’wanna watch a Christmas movie with us?”

“You and May haven’t had much time together.”

“May thinks of you as one of us; you don’t count as company in any way shape or form. She loves MJ and Johnny but not the way she loves you. I don’t know what the plan for dinner is but I know we’re good for a movie.”

Ned nodded, “Cool, let me text Mom.”

They walked into the house and Peter called, “Hey, May. Ned’s with me and Lucky.” He crouched to take Lucky’s boots and cape off.

May came out and smiled, “Hey, Ned. Are you here for dinner or just a movie?”

“Um, that’s really up to you, I’m imposing and I’m sure there’s a dinner at home.”

“You’re not imposing. You could never be an imposition,” said May, “We’re having leftovers from Friday, brunch this morning and I’m ordering a pizza because if we eat it, cool, if not: there’s breakfast.”

“I would love to stay,” said Ned. “Let me ask my mom.” He texted as he took off his winter boots and coat. 

“So, Elf or Edward Scissorhands?” asked May.

“Edward Scissorhands,” said Ned and Peter together.

“Okay, you guys get the firelog going and I’ll pour you two winter wanderers some hot chocolate. I just made a whole pot.”

The Duraflame log was easy lit and, within five minutes, the three of them were settled into the film. It was a nice way to finish the weekend, like so many other winter Sunday afternoons growing up. They ate dinner on the couch. Afterward, May drove Ned home, not wanting him to walk home in the dark with the ice, while Peter took a shower. When she came back, he was loading the dishwasher.

“Been a while since it was just us; that was nice,” said May.

“Felt right, just the three of us the night before going back to work,” agreed Peter.

“Are you excited?”

“So excited,” said Peter. “It’s Christmas and my birthday and it’s all rolled into one.”

He had a hard time falling asleep and swapped to his hammock halfway through the night. Lucky whined low in his throat and then switched his side of the bed and went back to sleep. The new angle helped Peter go to sleep and he didn’t wake up until his alarm. 

He had a hard time focusing at school. He just watched the clock, waiting for the end of the bell. When the day was over, he walked out of school with MJ and saw Johnny. He waved and walked down the steps. At the car he spoke softly, “I’m going to come with you and swing from the Baxter Building. No one will blink at Spider-Man leaving from there.” He slid into the car as Ned came down the steps. 

“No one has ever been this excited for a long meal surrounded by cops,” said MJ.

“The cops are my friends,” said Peter, “and I haven’t hung out with my friends since May. It’s almost Christmas. Do you know how far apart May and Christmas are?”

“About seven months,” said Ned as he got in.

Johnny laughed at him as they pulled away. “Sorry if I’m overexcited.”

“How was school?” asked Johnny.

“I have no idea,” said Peter, “all I can think about is my playdate. How was school, guys?”

“It was good. Your grasp on The Tempest is tenuous at best,” said MJ.

Peter laughed, “Can you tutor me over Christmas break?”

“Of course,” she agreed. 

It was just over a half-hour before he swung down into the street in front of Crest House. He saw some of the police inside, and he felt a bounce in his step as he walked in. “Hey, guys! How’s it going?”

“Spidey!” There were a lot of hugging and laughing.

“Are you really twelve?” asked Sargent Nalley.

“No, sir, I’m eleven,” Peter replied. It was a good cross-section of the different precincts. Mostly high ups but a few beat guys who Pete was close with. People laughed as they sat down at ten tables pulled together. “I’ve missed you, guys. My mom is going to take her lunch when I text her but I figure this is gonna be way more than forty-five minutes. How are you?” They ordered burgers, fries and onion rings and Peter got an egg cream. They caught him up on family news, because he had gotten himself enmeshed with their lives.

“You’re fifteen?” asked Captain Reynolds.

“You guys don’t want to know who I am. When I was captured in May, I was fifteen, as to whether or not I’m fifteen now, do you really want to know?”

“No,” said everyone at the table. 

“Either way, you’re a kid and we had no idea. We all thought you were a college student,” said the Captain. “We talked and thought you were a senior in college.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty competent and rational for a teenager,” agreed Peter. “Yay, egg cream. Thank you,” he said, accepting it from the waitress.

“Text your mom,” said the Deputy Chief.

Peter did, saying, “What’s your number? The speaker on my SpiderPhone isn’t that great and you should all have my mom’s burner phone number.” He read out the number and the Deputy Chief gave him his. Peter put the number into the message. The Deputy Chief’s phone started ring. “She’s very eager to be in on this.”

“Mrs. Spider-Man? This is Deputy Chief Allan, it’s a pleasure. Your kid is amazing. Is it okay for me to call you Mrs. Spider-Man?”

“It kind of makes me sound like I’m his wife and not his mother,” said May. “So I think I would prefer to be called, ‘Spidey’s Mom,’ if it’s all the same to you.”

“Absolutely, ma’am. You’re the mother of Queens’ only dedicated superhero. You could ask me to call you Your Majesty and we’d all genuflect. We’re big, big fans of your work.”

“Aww, Chief, I’m blushing under the mask,” said Peter.

May chuckled, “I’m on a lunch break and my job tends to have emergencies so why don’t I say my piece and then if I get called back Spidey can tell me what you said? Does that sound good?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the Deputy Chief. 

“Great, let me first say how grateful I am to all of you. My kid has always had more chutzpah than common sense and it’s nice to know that when he was climbing out of his window after saying goodnight there were grownups in the area. And, now that I know, he hung up that medal you gave him for citizen arrests.”

“That was kind of a joke,” said Sargent Roy, looking at Peter.

“I was very proud,” said Peter. “I worked hard for that medal and it’s hung in pride of place. It’s gold.”

“It’s golden,” agreed Sargent Roy, making Peter laugh. “Never try to pawn it; you’ll be very disappointed.”

“I am very proud,” said Peter, firmly.

“We’re really proud of you too,” said the Deputy Chief, earnestly. “Really proud. We thought there was a two at the beginning of your age not a one. We were always very impressed now we’re shocked and proud of your accomplishments.”

“He’s a good boy,” agreed May. “So, here’s my part: he isn’t cutting school anymore. He can be Spider-Man between three forty-five until six when he’ll be home for dinner and then he can be Spider-Man from six forty-five to nine. On Friday, he can be Spider-Man until ten-thirty. And he can be Spider-Man until twelve twenty-five on Saturday night. His hours over the weekend during the day are dependent on school work, clubs and how tired he is from the week. If you think he is dying because he cannot breathe and there are first responders who could intubate him you have my permission to get his mask above his nose instead of doing an emergency crike. But please, please, please try to keep his face covered. If anything happens, anything where you think, ‘Wow, he needs an adult,’ call me. I’m not happy about his being Spider-Man. I get why he loves it, I get why he does it, but if it were up to me he would still be twelve and really focused on LEGO. And I am allowing this to happen as long as he gets sleep, comes home for dinner and does not fight supervillains. That’s the big one, guys, my kid is under very, very serious orders to run away from supervillains. His SpiderPhone has the number of a whole heck of a lot of superheroes that he will text but he’s not throwing down with the supervillains. Anything else, that’s his call and you have veto power as adults. His suit is bullet and stab proof and sort of fire-retardant. He has a little AI earpiece that can talk to him and is on the same network as the Fantastic Four so that backs up his SpiderPhone. He’s as equipped as he’s going to get he’s also about nine years old.”

The cops laughed and Peter said, “Hey, they busted me down to twelve, not single digits.”

“Honestly, Spidey’s Mom, your kid is so mature we figured he was a senior in college,” said Captain Asleen.

“Yeah, he’s mature; he also can’t drive a car or go to a scary movie without me buying him a ticket... so,” she let the words trail off. “I think that’s all of my stuff. I’m sure you guys have friends stuff to catch up on but what do you have to talk to me about?”

“Yeah, we gotta talk about Johnny and the latest good ice cream and everything,” said the Deputy Chief. “You actually covered a lot of what we wanted to talk about. We wanted hours and oversight and a way to contact you. We also wanted to talk about payment.”

That made Peter freeze. “I’m a big fan of the Police Family Support Society. But I don’t have access to the sixty million dollars yet, Chief.”

The man laughed, “No, stop, stop. No. We realized, watching that horror video, that we have taken you for granted. You were a superhero superheroing. But, you’re street level and you should be paid for this.”

“I have an action figure line now. I think that makes me a full-on superhero.”

A lot of the cops nodded and then Sargent Davis said, “Bit of advice: don’t work for free.”

“We can’t put you on payroll, because we would need a background check and also a name,” said the Deputy Chief, “But for our CIs, for good info, we give them three hundred bucks once a month. Cash in hand.”

“You want to give me snitch money?” asked Peter.

“It wouldn’t be snitch money, it would be Spider money,” said Deputy Chief Allan. “We also like that on the first of the month you walk into a precinct, physically and get the money. You can spend it on sandwiches. You love sandwiches. You love eating sandwiches on roofs. Rob’s right: don’t work for free. It’s not much but you get through a lot of snacks.”

“My friends and I redecorated my room, got rid of all of the Avengers junk and we painted an abstract New York Skyline on my wall and there is a tiny little me eating a sandwich on a rooftop.”

“Cute,” said Sargent Dawes, emphatically.

“It’s a really nice mural,” said May.

“So your friends know?” asked Deputy Chief Allan.

“My oldest friend barely started the video before turning it off. It didn’t matter how much my appearance was altered; he knows me. My other non-super friend watched the whole video, vomited and didn’t realize it was me until she read the victim statement. I guess there were some turns of phrases,” he shrugged.

“Honey, I am getting pulled back into it. I won’t be home for dinner. What are you eating now?”

“I ordered a cheeseburger, onion rings and fries and I’m drinking an egg cream.”

“Okay,” she said, “well there’s leftover pizza and there are BJ’s pot stickers in the freezer for when you get home.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I have a question, if you aren’t going to be home until late-” 

“Are you serious?” May interrupted. “Are you serious? Your curfew is not negotiable. Just because I can’t be home doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be out. Are you serious?”

“No, no, no, I wasn’t asking that. Home by nine, lights out by ten. I wasn’t asking. I swear. I’m not a jerk and I respect you and I’m not going back to sneaking out my window. I was asking: if you aren’t going to be home for dinner do I have to take the six to six forty-five break?”

“I don’t know. What do you think the dog thinks?”

“I forgot about him,” admitted Peter. “He will die without affection. He’ll also decide he’s starving to death and play it up when I get home.”

“If I’m not going to be home, you have to walk the dog and eat something real out of the fridge before going back out. Question for you, officers. My kid wears fingerless glove. Do you have his fingerprints on file?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said the Deputy Chief. “We use them to rule out fingerprints at crime scenes. He hands us evidence.”

“Okay, so, if he starts hanging out with the cool kids and they have drugs — because cool kids always have drugs — and they get caught and he’s stupid enough to get caught with them, you have his fingerprints.”

Captain Asleen laughed, “Spidey’s Mom, all that would do is clear his name real fast. Then, while hauling the cool kids over the coals, one of us would be discreetly getting him into a squad car and then screaming at him about making good choices and not hanging out with the kids who do drugs.” 

Laughing, Peter said, “That is almost verbatim what I told her when she worried about my gloves. Isn’t it?” he asked toward the phone.

“Well, excuse me for worrying about my superpowered child’s safety,” she said. He heard her pager, and she sighed, “I gotta… I’m gonna be late home, real late. Love you, honey.”

“Love you, too.”

“Have fun swinging,” she said. Then she said, “It was very nice speaking to you all. Please keep being nice to my kid. He holds you all in very high regard.”

The food came, and Peter was pleased to see it. They all ate happily as Peter asked after their families, catching up, getting up to date on the gossip. Captain Asleen said, “So what kind of dog is he?”

“You don’t want to know that,” said Peter.

“Of course I do,” said the Captain. “We like you. We consider you a colleague and just because you are eight years old doesn’t change that.”

Peter laughed, “I totally believe you and, under other circumstances,, we would talk for an hour about the fact that I have the best dog in the universe. But you don’t want to know his breed. You don’t want that information. I’m a white kid, with a single mother, between the ages of fifteen and sixteen, whose own mother says he could never hang out with the cool kids, who likes science and lives somewhere in Queens. You know all that about me, and you don’t want to know my identity. Do you really want any more identifying details like what kinda dog I share my bed with?”

“No, I don’t,” agreed Captain Asleen. “How is school going?”

“I don’t understand Shakespeare. Like, at all, and it’s not the language. I have no real problem with the language; I can understand it. It’s that I don’t think they are very interesting,” Peter shrugged. “I don’t understand how stories that are not very interesting have stood the test of time. And there are huge plot holes. If anyone had ever talked to anyone about anything the stories would be over. ‘Desdemona, Iago says you’re sleeping with Cassio.’ ‘That’s absurd, Othello, I love you and Iago has a crush on you. I would never hurt you like that. I would never sleep with a keyboard.’ ‘OMG, you’re right, he has a crush on me. It is super not bro to try and convince your bro to kill his wife because you have a crush. I’m sorry. Thou art not false as hell and I love you too.’ If anyone had a conversation instead of a soliloquy they’d be half the length. And maybe he would have time for some interesting plot. But one of my two friends is tutoring me over the break so… that’s school.”

“You have a girlfriend?” asked the Deputy Chief. “Or a boyfriend,” he added quickly.

“Neither. I want the former but… she’s my friend and I would never want to mess that up. Also, as I have two non-super friends, if I screw it up with her that screws up their friendship too. I can destroy three social lives with the words, ‘Would you like to go to the Valentine’s dance with me?’ So I’m not gonna say that I’m just going to enjoy our time alone while she tutors me on why I should care about Shakespeare even though I think his plots are kinda ham-handed.” Then he turned and said, “Sargent Dawes, Patty was just about to have her first cello recital back in May. How did it go?”

“My ears bled… she was very proud. She had her second one on Friday at her school concert.”

“Better?” asked Peter.

“Nope, but she was very proud.”

They ate and laughed and, over bread pudding, “Oh, fuck I meant to say earlier,” started the Deputy Chief.

“Language,” said Peter, the way he always had as Spider-Man. The man blinked, slowly. “You swear in front of me because I am behind the veil of law enforcement. I call you out on it because, as a hero, I feel we should hold ourselves to the standards the public holds us to. I know it’s been a while since we saw each other but it’s a thing we do. Anyway, you meant to say?”

“We’ve sworn like troopers in front of a six-year-old. And you’ve reprimanded us for it so many times.”

“You keep de-aging me like this,” said Peter, “I’m going to be a twinkle in my father’s eye by the end of the meal. Don’t start policing your language now. It’s our shtick and you swearing in front of me now is no different than it was. I’m not offended. Please feel free to keep swearing.”

“We want you to start attending the borough police planning meetings,” said the Depute Chief. “It’s once every three months. It’s supposed to be two hours. It’s usually four. We get good sandwiches. We took you for granted. It was wrong of us. I meant to talk about it when your mom was on the phone.”

“I get to come to the meeting? I’m in a meeting? Cool,” said Peter. Sargent Morgan handed him half a slice of pumpkin pie, “Ohh, pie, thank you. When’s the meeting?”

“It’s gonna be April sixth,” said the man. 

Peter faltered, “Oh, okay, yeah.”

“What’s wrong?” asked Deputy Chief Allan.

“No, nothing, I’m super excited to be joining you. It’s just that I have Mets tickets for that day. My best friend and I always make sure we get to one game a year.”

The man smiled, “Who we playing?”

“Padres,” said Peter. “We like to go when the team we’re playing is bad because then we might see our guys hit something.”

“Ouch,” said Sargent Nalley.

“What? I’m a fan, not an idiot. It’s better to be pragmatic than buy tickets to see them play the Yankees wishfully thinking you might see a big win. They might beat the Padres.” He smiled, but then he remembered what they were talking about. It was a bummer, but he did have responsibilities, “I’ll tell my friend I can’t go.”

“No, that’s silly, you get to see the Mets at home. Guys, can we?” asked the Chief Deputy.

Heads of Precincts started opening phone calendars and rescheduling.

“Sorry,” said Peter.

“We want you there, we also want you to see the Mets,” the Deputy Chief shrugged. “The whole point of this meal was to make sure we figured out a life/work balance for you. We don’t want you in the bullpen at four AM anymore. We want you to be able to have a teenage life and help you be super. You have Mets tickets and you’re allowed to have Mets tickets; you don’t work for us.”

“I get snitch money; doesn’t that mean I kinda work for you?” he asked.

“If we held out CIs up to our standards, we wouldn’t be able to pay any of them,” said Captain Reynolds. “I handed a CI fifty bucks the other day while he was stoned out of his skull because he had a tip for me about someone doing something worse.”

“It’s not snitch money,” protested the Deputy Chief. “It’s a very small stipend so you can buy snacks while swinging.”

“I do like snacks,” agreed Peter. “Now that my mom knows that I’m me, she got BJ’s membership, and it’s great. Before I was getting through a ton of Pop Tarts now I’m getting through a ton of Pop Tarts and other stuff. Amazing hash browns.” Captain Asleen handed him half of his slice of German chocolate cake. “Thank you. How is your wife’s horse?”

“He’s well. They did very well at a dressage competition two months ago,” he said.

“That’s the fancy walking, right?” asked Peter.

“Yes, the fancy walking,” agreed the man.

“Neat,” said Peter. To Detective McAvoy he said, “Has Mike been cooking his amazing lemon cookies or is he baking something new?”

The man laughed, “He baked seventy last weekend for our daughter’s bake sale. They sold out first. They always do.”

“They’re the best glazed-lemons ever,” said Peter.

“Why do you call Mike by his name but everyone else as ‘your wife’ or ‘Mrs. So-and-so’ or ‘your husband’?” asked Detective McAvoy.

“Mike asked me to call him Mike,” said Peter, “it’s not a vast conspiracy.”

There was a silence at the table that Peter didn’t understand. “We should all be on first-name basis,” said the Deputy Chief.

“Matthew,” said Peter with a gentle tone, “no one in the borough is on first-name basis with you. No one at this table has ever used your given name before it just came out of my mouth.”

The man laughed, “Right. That’s true. But you are neither the public nor a cop. You’re right, you’re behind the veil.”

“I’m not a cop but I am on the payroll. I’m getting snitch money.”

“Stop calling it snitch money,” said the Deputy Chief.

“I don’t even know Sargent Morgan’s first name.”

“Beth,” offered Sargent Morgan. 

“We can’t really be on first-name basis,” said Peter. “None of you know my name.”

“Yeah, but we don’t call you Spider-Man, we call you Spidey,” said the Deputy Chief. “That’s Johnny Storm’s name for you that we use. We’re on first names now; deal with it, Spidey.”

“Okay, Matthew. Whatever you say, sir.” Detective Lyman tried to hand him half a slice of pumpkin pie and Peter shook his head. “I’ve had my own bread pudding and half of five other people’s desserts. I can’t, Monica. Thank you. But I can’t. Why aren’t any of you eating your desserts? Is it ‘cause you saw me starving in that video? I’m fine. I’m back. I don’t need pity desserts.”

“No; it’s because none of us can stay fit enough to chase criminals if we have a whole diner-sized slice pie,” said Detective Lyman.

Peter shook his head, “I can’t. I gotta swing home and I can’t eat any more. I’m wearing sweat pants and they’re getting tight. It’s my first night back. I can’t eat anymore and swing for hours.”

“Actually,” said the Deputy Chief, “we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind waiting until tomorrow.”

“Matthew, come on,” said Peter. “I’m back.”

“We just want to talk this over, this evening and figure out the best way forward, think about if we’ve missed anything. Please?”

Peter sighed, “So it’s a night of Grey’s Anatomy and PJs? C’mon.”

“It’s been seven months. One more night, please? We’ve been here for almost four hours. It’s dark. Go home. We’ll text you tomorrow around two, give us a call before you start, please? Please, Spidey.”

He breathed out and nodded. “Okay. Okay.”

“Grey’s Anatomy?” Sargent Morgan.

“We have one TV and my mom really likes it, Beth,” he shrugged. 

Sargent Morgan spoke slowly, “Okay, but she’s not home.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but it was a good episode and I was more focused on sewing a second Spider-Man suit than the episode.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. 

“Anything else?” asked Peter.

“You can’t work on Christmas Eve, Day or the day after. Be a kid,” said the Deputy Chief. “This lets you ease back into it. Okay?”

Peter nodded, “That will make my mom happy. Imma swing home slowly. If I see something I can’t ignore it, not now I’m healthy, but I won’t seek out anything. Once I’m home I’m done for the night. I’ll walk the dog, get into PJs and text my friends while watching TV.”

“Homework?” asked the Deputy Chief.

“I finished most of what I need for the week on Friday and Sunday morning,” said Peter. “Did some in study hall today, plan on doing more tomorrow. Don’t worry about my homework until my mom worries. I got A’s in everything but Spanish last year when I was staying out until two AM every night and six AM once a week. Don’t worry about my homework. It’s good, promise. Everyone has my number and hers?” they nodded. “Spread them around liberally. But they’re pay as you go phones, so don’t do funny texts, it’s unlimited minutes but only one hundred texts a month. Keep the texts for serious stuff.” 

“Is that suit warm enough? It’s twenty-three degrees outside,” asked Captain Asleen.

Peter pulled his sleeve up, “Electric long johns. Really good electric long johns. I’m good. Swinging over here I was toasty. I mean, I’ll never say no to hot cocoa, but I’m fine.”

“It’s really nice to have you back, and it’s been wonderful catching up. You don’t realize how connected we are until we sit in a diner for four hours and you know literally everyone’s family status.”

“Well I’m a chatty guy, even when doing this voice. I’m going a bit hoarse.”

“That’s not your real voice?” asked Captain Liddle. 

“Have you ever met a teenager with a voice this deep?” asked Peter. “I was fourteen when we met. But you don’t want to know my real voice.”

“Nope, we do not,” agreed Captain Liddle. 

“It’s been awesome. But, I’m sure the waitress wants the tables back and we do have work,” said the Deputy Chief.

“I’m sure my dog wants me,” said Peter. 

He reached for his wallet and the Chief shook his head, “No, we are expensing this meeting. Go home, try not to stop any crimes on the way there. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Peter stood, “Thank you for the meal. It was really great seeing you guys. I’ve missed you all. My friends were making fun of me for being so excited about a meeting with the police. You were the last friends I hadn’t seen.”

“We’re all so happy you’re back.”

He got several hugs as he left. He was swinging home when he saw a little boy who was crying. “Hey, kiddo, you lost?” he called.

“Spider-Man, I can’t find my daddy,” said the little boy, through snot.

Peter swung down. “Hi there. What’s your name?”

“Michael.”

Peter smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Michael. Let’s find your daddy. What’s his name?”

“Daddy,” said Michael. “We were walking and then there was a cat. I like cats. Then Daddy wasn’t there.”

“Okay, we’ll find him. I’ve never not found a grownup for kid. Come stand under the lamp post for me.” The little boy did as told and Peter swung up to stand on the street light. Cupping his hands around his mouth he called, “Michael’s dad.” He called it again and then said, “Michael, stay right there. Okay?” The little boy wiped his tears away from his face. He swung up to the closest rooftop. “Michael’s dad,” he shouted. He saw a guy in a blue jacket and red sneakers start running to him. Calling down, Peter said, “Is your daddy wearing a blue sweatshirt and red sneakers?”

“Adidas,” Michael nodded. 

Peter stayed where he was to give the guy a guide but said, “Don’t worry, Michael, he’s running like the wind.” Once the man turned the corner, Peter swung down. “He’s coming. He’s on his way. What color was the cat?”

“Orange and its name was Tangerine.”

Peter smiled under the mask, aware that it pulled the mask and was the one emotion that showed through, “What a wonderful name for a cat.” 

The man came running. He said, “Michael, I turned around and you weren’t there.”

“There was a cat, Daddy,” the little boy started to cry again.

The man hugged him close, “I’m so sorry, that was scary for me too.” He looked up and gave a grimacing smile. “Thank you, Spider-Man. That was scary.”

“This is one hundred percent my job,” said Peter. “First night back and first Spider-Man act. Very, very pleased to help. Michael,” he held out a hand and the little boy gave him a high five. “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you for helping me, Spider-Man.”

“You are so welcome, Michael,” Peter crouched to be on his eye level. “I really missed helping people just like you.” Michael hugged him and Peter hugged back. 

“Will you take a picture with me for my bedroom?” asked Michael.

“Bud, Spider-Man’s busy.”

“I’m really not,” said Peter. “Police asked me to not be Spider-Man for one more night. I told them I would swing home but stop if I saw someone who needed help. Michael needed help. I can take a photo.”

The man grinned, “My wife is going to kill me when I explain how we got this picture.”

“There was an orange cat called Tangerine,” said Peter. “Who wouldn’t get distracted?”

“No one. You can’t ignore that but I should have been paying more attention.”

“One time I was out and about with four grownups. They lost me. There was a bucket of baby turtles in China Town. The man let me touch them. That’s as interesting as an orange cat called Tangerine. It happens,” he shrugged. “Feel free to tell your wife: even superheroes get lost by parents and we turn out just fine.”

The man laughed, “I don’t know if she would find that comforting. It would be wonderful if you would take a picture.”

Peter nodded, “Michael, do you want to do a freeze-frame high five or pretend to shoot webs?”

“I asked Santa for web shooters just like yours.”

“Were you good this year?” asked Peter.

“I was very good and Christmas is only six days away!” 

“I hope you get them. Let’s pretend to shoot your dad’s camera, okay?”

Michael nodded vigorously. They posed together for a few shots. Then Peter said, “Imma let you guys go get warm. It was very nice meeting you both.” 

“You okay?” asked Michael’s dad. “My oldest is just about your age.”

“I’m perfect,” said Peter. “I’m happy to be back and helping lost kids. I’m back, sir, I’m back. It’s really good to be back. But I’m chilly and I’m in electric long johns so you two must be frozen solid.”

“It was nice meeting you, Spider-Man,” Michael hugged him again.

“You too, Michael,” Peter hugged him back and said one final goodbye before jogging into a swing. He moved faster now. He was cold and wanted to get home. He saw no other crying children or people being held up at knifepoint. He changed in the alley he usually used. He liked to do it in the same area because if he did it in lots of spots equidistant from his house he might actually put a bullseye on himself. He ducked into Delmar’s and smiled at the man, “Hey, Mr. Delmar. How are you?”

“Peter, you look good. How is your aunt?”

“She’s been pulled into a late surgery,” said Peter. “I am alone for dinner and I have left over pizza but you have good sandwiches and I’ve got cash.”

“Number five, with pickles, real flat?”

“Yes, please.”

“How’s school going?”

“It goes,” Peter shrugged. “Christmas break starts Friday. Monday is Christmas. I can’t focus on Shakespeare.”

“You gotta stay in school.”

“You always say this. You always threaten me that I’ll end up like you: owning the best darn bodega in Queens. You’re the worst person to tell kids not to follow in your footsteps.” The man held out his sandwich and Peter handed him five bucks. “Thank you for making my dinner, Mr. Delmar. Have a good night.” He took the sandwich and walked home, whistling. His long johns were toasty under his clothes. He was greeted at the door by Lucky who nuzzled him. “Gosh, I missed you.” He put his sandwich down and grabbed Lucky’s leash. “If we go for a walk now, we can give up on the day and just rewatch Grey’s. What do you think?” Lucky put his chin up to let Peter clip on his cape. “Such a good boy.” He added Lucky’s booties. Within minutes of being outside, Lucky made his displeasure with the cold known. They were back home in just over ten minutes. He texted May on her regular phone. He always had when she worked late and he’s been coming home from Ned’s. He wrote, “In for the night; Lucky is walked; had a great time with my friends; hope your surgery goes well. I’m watching Grey’s in jammies. See you in the morning!”

He ate his sandwich and had a slice of pizza before saying, “Luck, we’re getting an early night.” He turned off the lights and locked the doors, leaving the Christmas lights on the porch on for May. Lucky, who had already been dosing, sprinted upstairs and got onto the bed and burrowed under the covers before Peter had even brushed his teeth. Climbing into bed he said, “What a good night.”

The week was good, two armed robberies, one attempted bodega knock over, two carjackings, three bike thefts and six lost tourists. He took a lot of pictures with people and posted on his social media. “So many people want a picture with me. This is new and cool, but I kinda feel like a fraud. Like, you know you can get a photo with #Elmo in #TimeSquare, right?”

On Friday it all hit the fan. He felt the tingle, worse than he had in a while, he swung toward the horror. He couldn’t see anything wrong. And then he smelt it. “Karen, call the cops. Tell them there is a gas leak.” He pinpointed the building and swung in without pause, updating the info for Karen. He shouted as he swung through the building, trying to get people moving. “There is a gas leak; you have to get out of here now!”

He grabbed twelve people and got them out fast. He spoke in a rush, “Gas leak in your basement. You can’t smell it yet. I can.” He was pretty sure he had all the people out and was getting a freaking Saint Bernard out a fifth-story window when the fire sparked, he heard the boom in the basement, he got out just as it shook. He got the dog out and was breathing hard on the sidewalk.

And then he heard a little girl say, “My mommy is still sleeping.”

He turned horrified and said, “Is she inside?” The little girl nodded. “Which apartment?”

“The one with the pink tree,” she pointed and he saw a pink tinsel tree in the window of a third-floor apartment. Some cops and paramedics had arrived, no fire trucks yet. He didn’t pause, he didn’t think, he just swung up.

The apartment was on fire, everything was on fire. He screamed, “Hello?”

“Help me. Please, help me,” a woman called back. He swung over flames in the living room to get to her. He crouched as the smoke filled his mouth. The woman was stuck in a corner of her room, fire everywhere and moving fast.

He swung over flames and said, “Sorry you’re not wearing shoes,” before grabbing her around the waist. As he ran toward the window, he said, “Arms around my neck, hold on tight, shut your eyes.” She didn’t argue. He took a running leap and kicked the window out, the sudden flow of fresh oxygen made the fire whoosh behind them, Peter swung to one building, but — unable to use the arm holding the woman — he skittered down the opposite wall using one hand and his feet. Reaching the pavement, he said, “Your little girl is just around the corner, ma’am.”

She hugged him but he started coughing hard and had to brace himself against a building. The woman caught him so he could stay upright and he exhaled hard, “Phew, that was rough.” 

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Looking at her feet, he said, “The paramedics are here. They might have slippers. You’ll get frostbite in this cold on the ice.”

“Are you okay?” she repeated. 

“I just need a little air and a few minutes sitting. Saving thirteen people and a Saint Bernard is hard.”

“Beethoven,” she said.

“Super unoriginal name for a Saint Bernard. That’s lazy,” he said before he started hacking up more phlegm. “Let’s get you some slippers.” 

“I pulled a triple, fed Lily and passed out. The next thing, there was fire everywhere.”

“I smelled gas and started getting people out. I hope I got everyone.”

“You got thirteen people and a dog who wouldn’t have otherwise gotten out. You’ve saved fourteen lives tonight.”

He looked at her feet and said, “I know I’m coughing, but let me carry you. You’re going to get frostbite. No arguing.” He swooped her up.

“I can’t believe I slept through it. Lily must have been so scared.”

“My mom pulls triples sometimes; she could sleep through anything. I swear I could jump on the bed and she wouldn’t wake up. Lily is okay; she’s scared but okay. It’s important for kids to see their parents work.” He coughed into his shoulder.

“You need to let the paramedics check you out.”

“Why aren’t you coughing?” he asked.

“The fire wasn’t in my room and I was breathing shallowly, you were in it and taking deep breaths.”

He got around the corner and Lily called, “Mommy!” The police had pulled people down a block, away from the now burning building. 

Peter smiled and said, “Mommy isn’t wearing shoes, so I’m carrying her, but she’s not hurt.” He brought the woman to the ambulance. He coughed again. After getting her into the ambulance without her feet touching the ground, he leaned over, hands on his knees to have a deep cough.

A paramedic said, “I want to have a look at you.”

“Sorry, dude, that’s not happening,” said Peter. He saw Sargent Reed coming to him, “Hi, Molly.”

“Spidey, you need to get checked out,” she said insistently. “You’re done.”

He shook his head, “I’m fine.” Fire trucks came screaming to the scene.

“Spidey, you’re coughing,” she said, ignoring the trucks completely. 

“I don’t like doctors, my body is different. I’m not doing this. I didn’t like doctors before the boat. I’m not,” he shook his head and started coughing again. She looked thoughtful and took out her phone, “Please don’t call my mom; she’s working. Please, I don’t want this.”

“I’m not calling your mom. I’m getting you medical help that’s not going to freak you out. You’re almost hyperventilating, sit on the ambulance.” He sat on the back lip of the rig. She spoke into the phone, “Dr. McCoy? My name is Molly Reed, I’m a Sargent here in Queens. Spider-Man is fine. He just got thirteen people and a dog out of a gas-filled building. The last one, though, the building was on fire and he’s coughing. I don’t know if it was the gas or the fire. He’s coughing and he doesn’t want the paramedics. Because medical is personal and… Yeah,” she nodded, “Yeah… great. Okay… here he is.” She held out the phone.

Peter sighed, “Y’gonna say, ‘Man up and roll the mask up.’?” The firemen were going at it with hoses and some were going in in protective gear.

“No, roll up the mask, ask for an oxygen mask and sit still. I’ll be there in six minutes.”

“I’m sorry to make you-”

“You were tortured and then in medical care for twelve weeks. You can say no to the paramedic. You’re in charge of your medical care. I’ll see you in six, get oxygen.” 

He handed the phone back to Molly and said to the paramedic, “May I please have an oxygen mask?” He took it from the guy. “Thank you.” The fire was raging. Looking away, Peter felt his eyes go wet. He sniffed, not wanting to cry in the mask.

“Hey,” said Molly, “are you okay? Were you injured?”

He shook his head, taking the mask away from his face, he spoke softly to her, aware of the company. He said, “A building is burning right in front of us halfway through Hanukkah, only days before Christmas. All the gifts, the special food for special dinners, all the happy memories and those people’s possessions are on fire. It’s all just burning. And I don’t know if I got everyone out.” He sniffed hard and put the oxygen mask back on.

She squeezed his hand gently. “You saved fourteen lives. Just breathe.”

A streak of fire shot through the air, and then Johnny was on the ground, talking to the cops. Then he came over to Peter. “You putting it out?” asked Peter, behind the mask.

Johnny shook his head, “They are going to try and go in and see if anyone is in there. If I put it out-”

“You would suck all the oxygen out, and anyone who might be trapped would suffocate,” Peter finished for him, understanding.

“And if I go in, all I’m doing is bringing more fire to the party.” Glancing at the building, Johnny shook his head, “Three days before Christmas and right in the middle of Hanukkah.”

Peter just nodded. The tiny little Blackbird landed on the roof of the building next to them and a ladder came down. Hank came down with two figures dressed in white with white masks. Hank came to him and said, "Brought your friends with me.” Looking at the fire, he said, “This is very much a job for firefighters.” He started to give Peter an examination. “I want an X-Ray and a bronchoscopy.”

“No,” whined Peter.

“Make you a deal: you don’t whine about this, you get a clean bill of health and I’ll let your friends sleep over at your place tomorrow.”

“That’s already happening,” said Peter.

“Wow: I’m such a great doctor I’m already making things better in the past,” Hank smiled, and Peter gave a weak laugh which set him off coughing. “Just sit and breathe. Nice, normal breathes in and out. I am just going to go check with the cops to see if they need anything. I want you to have that oxygen for ten minutes.” He walked away saying, “Ice, come with me. This may or may not be your first mission.” Kitty gave him a thumbs-up, and Peter clapped gently for him.

“Johnny, can you text my mom’s superphone? Tell her that I’m going to Westchester because Hank is a worrywart and that I’m fine, but I’m gonna be sedated so if she calls and I don’t pick up, she should call an X-Man.”

Kitty was watching the building, “Middle of Hanukkah, three days before Christmas. What was it?”

“Gas leak,” said Peter. She sat down heavily next to him. “You okay?”

“Rough week and now this.”

“Rough week?” asked Peter.

She sighed, “No, you know what? You saved fourteen lives tonight. It’s your first week back and this is a triumph for you. You got fourteen people out. We’re gonna focus on that.”

“Cat, for months I wasn’t okay, I was a total mess, and you guys carried me.” Peter put an arm around her. “I’m good now. I’m fine and you just said it was a rough week. Let me listen to your thing this time.”

“Have you been watching the C-SPAN coverage of the Senate hearings about mutants?”

“It’s been a busy week,” he said, apologetically. “Bad?”

“There’s this guy, Senator Robert Kelly. They were… interrogating Ms. Grey and he pulls out this list, and he says, ‘l have here a list of names of identified mutants living right here in the United States. A girl in Illinois who walks through walls. What's to stop her from walking into a bank vault? Or into the White House? Or into their houses?’” She shook her head, angrily. “And, it’s like. A) your information is out of date; I’ve lived in Westchester for two years. B) how the fuck did you get this information? How do you know that? And c) like, what the hell? ‘What’s to stop me?’ I don’t know, basic decency maybe? Why do so many people think that being a mutant makes us immediately bad people? I mean, look at that door,” she pointed at an apartment building’s glass front door. “A keyhole for the residents and a keypad for visitors to be buzzed in. What’s to stop anyone with a fucking hammer from smashing it and walking in? Nothing, nothing at all but decency. Why is it that being born with a different gene combination makes me evil?”

She took a shaky breath and Peter thought she was done, but she went on. “And quite frankly, I’m never going into his house. He could be screaming for help, and I would not raise one finger to save him. Horrible, spiteful man. They wonder why Magneto and the people who stand with him are so angry? It’s because they treat us like criminals just because we were born, and that’s how you make a criminal. I mean, Magneto survived Auschwitz. And now this? Germans vilified the Jews and persecuted them just for existing, and it’s happening again. He’s angry, and this time he’s not a child so he can fight back.”

Peter was about to reply, but she went on, “So I go to his website because who the hell is this man vilifying me on TV? Who is this man who is making me into a boogeyman for America? So I go. And I see he is super pro-gun. Not pro the second amendment, like, pro-gun, like, would make out with a gun. He wants everyone to have a gun. He doesn’t want wait periods, he doesn’t want background checks; he doesn’t want IDs; he doesn’t want age restrictions; he doesn’t want location restrictions. So he is a-okay with a violent criminal buying a gun in a bodega next to an elementary school, but he wants me to be registered to exist? And I see that he’s super pro-Israel. He even has that poem about ‘First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — Because I was not a socialist.’ The hypocrisy of seeing it there was galling. And then I started thinking about it. Ninety percent of mutants are Jewish; it’s genetic. So where is my Jew crew? Where are all the people who should be marching on Washington to say, ‘No, you don’t get to do this. Not again.’? Mutants live in hiding. The number of out mutants marching would make no difference but there could be, should be, millions of people — anyone with decency — standing up for us. ‘First they came for the mutants and I did not speak out — Because I am not a mutant.’”

Bobby was running around the building throwing giant ice buttresses up against the sides, trying to keep the building standing. They watched him, and she shook her head angrily. She hadn’t lost her train of thought. “So then my Zeyde calls to say he saw and to see if I’m okay. And I’m trying to keep it together, but I’m so upset. And he apologizes to me. He tells me that he came to America after leaving Dachau because he thought it would be safe here. And he says that he’s so sorry because I’m the same age he was when they sent him to Dachau and he doesn’t believe that I am any safer than he was. He talked about how the Nazis started with registration, calling for public safety, just like the Senate is. This is how it started. The fear-mongering and registration. So now, my ninety-year-old Zeyde, who survived the holocaust, is crying and I’m crying. And I’m late for class so I rush and I get there and try to apologize, but I’m just crying. And, through my tears, Ms. Frost gets what I’m saying, and she’s like, ‘You hung up on your grandfather who survived Dachau for class?’ So we go to her office, she calls him and apologizes that her class seemed important but assures him that she’s fine with me skipping. And she’s trying to speak Yiddish but her Yiddish sucks so he switches to English and then they’re having this weird, stilted chat. His English is excellent but very formal. It was pretty funny, both of them trying to find words. After a minute I cracked up and said, ‘You’re both fluent in Hebrew.’ They chatted easily after that. Then I spent, like, two hours on the phone with him and I felt a lot better. But, clearly, he didn’t believe I did. This morning a big box of homemade rugelach came with a card wishing me a happy Hanukkah and a really lovely necklace. I mean, he always sends me a Hanukkah present but not a gold necklace and three pounds of homemade pastries. Then, I’m sharing them with people and everyone at school knows what’s been going on. When I say my Zeyde sent them I see this dawning look of worry like they shouldn’t be eating his love cookies when I’m having a rough time. But it’s, like, ‘No, guys, enjoy really good homemade rugelach now, because if Senator Fucking Kelly gets his way we won’t be able to enjoy them much longer.’” 

She sighed, seemingly having run out of steam. “I don’t know, I don’t know what the future holds. But if the government starts making us wear armbands so that people can see the threat walking amongst them, they better put a star on them. They better at least own what they are doing. The government are the ones making the Magnetos of this world. How hard do they think they can push us down before some of us snap? Why can’t they just treat us like people? If they weren’t always antagonizing us, Eric Lassiter would just be someone’s calm little old Jewish grandpa, messing around with metal to make his grandchildren laugh. As it is, he’s Magneto.” 

“And I kinda get where he’s coming from,” she continued. “I mean, I don’t agree with his actions but I get it. The only reason he and Professor Xavier aren’t besties anymore is because Professor Xavier thinks the best way to get normal people to accept us is by proving our worth and Magneto thinks that we shouldn’t have to. I don’t agree with his violence, but I do agree that I shouldn’t have to prove that I am not a threat. I wanted to be a rabbi when I grew up. Getting powers gave me the option of being a superhero, and I chose to train to be an X-Man. But I shouldn’t have to be an X to have society recognize me as valid.”

“You would have to give up soft shell crab season to be a rabbi,” said Peter. 

She nodded, “That’s part of why I leaned toward the X-Men. True fact: soft shell crabs and bacon are borderline a deal-breaker.” Then she sighed, “I don’t know. I’m scared of the future. Either some mutant who has had enough will blow up DC, or we’re all going to get put into camps in Wyoming. The government is playing with fire. We’re less than two percent of the population, but if they come for us people will fight back and that’s going to end badly… probably for the government. Either way, it’s not good.”

“Wyoming?” asked Peter.

“Have you ever actually met anyone from Wyoming? I haven’t. I’m pretty sure no one lives there. It’s ripe for an internment camp.” Johnny gave a shocked laugh, and Kitty said, “Yuck it up now, Johnny. First they came for the mutants, and people said nothing. And then they came for the enhanced.”

He nodded, “I hope we end up in the same camp.”

“It’s gonna have to be a crazy facility, to stop people with powers from getting out,” said Peter, trying to cheer her up. “Can you imagine a wall that can withstand Johnny’s flames, your phasing, Ice’s ice shattering or my myriad of abilities?”

Kitty didn’t laugh, she spoke seriously, “They’ll do it chemically. The walls will be irrelevant. We’ll be drugged to the gills. That’s how they will do it. We will be drugged until they exterminate us for the safety of good, honest, hardworking Americans. Right now, all we can do is watch this building, where people’s lives happened, burn. We’re four days into Hanukkah, it’s three days until Christmas, and we’re watching a home burn down. These poor people. The world fucking sucks.” 

“Can I give you some advice as one hero to a trainee hero?” asked Peter.

“Sure,” she nodded. 

“You can’t swear as much as you just did and be a role model,” said Peter, deadpan. It finally made her laugh. He wrapped his arm around her tighter. “Y’want some of my oxygen? It seems calming.”

“I don’t want to be calm,” she said.

Hank rushed over, “Cat, if they give you a breathing mask can you phase through a couple of walls and find out if there is a person trapped? There might be someone on the second floor. You are allowed, nay encouraged, to say no if you feel at all hesitant. This is way bigger than anything you’ve done before. It’s crazy of me to even ask a trainee.”

“I can do that. I can totally do that,” she said, entirely evenly.

“Okay, if it gets too much, you get out. You can’t help anyone if you’re dead,” said Hank and she nodded and stood. “Come on, they want you in a fire suit.”

“That would be a hindrance. I can phase through fire but doing that while also thinking about phasing the gear? I need a breathing mask for me, a mask for the person and one of those fireproof blankets to wrap them in. I have got this. A suit would be a hindrance.” She thought, “So is this mask.” She pulled it off and handed it to Johnny, “Senator Kelly basically destroyed my anonymity anyway, and it messes up my peripheral vision. It’s only first responders and cops here: they’re trustworthy.” She pulled her ponytail into a tight bun in under a second in a move Peter couldn’t fully comprehend. 

Hank shook his head with irritation but then kissed her forehead. “Come on, let’s get you over there.” 

They left, and Peter looked at Johnny. Johnny shook his head, “Four days into Hanukkah and three days before Christmas.”

“I was feeling mostly positive before you guys got here. I wasn’t sure if anyone was still in there, I was very aware of the date. But I saved fourteen lives. Senator Kelly is the worst. Poor Cat.” 

“Yeah,” agreed Johnny. “On a brighter note: look at my amazing boyfriend killing it on his first mission. Thank you, for introducing us.”

It was mere moments before Kitty was stepping out of the fire, not a smudge on her white uniform. She was carrying a body, struggling under the weight, and Peter heard her say, “She’s breathing but not much.” Hank took the woman from her, and Kitty took off the fire mask and shook her hair out. She came back to them as paramedics from another rig started working on the woman. Johnny held out the white mask, and Kitty shook her head.

“You just saved a life,” said Peter.

“Maybe, but she was barely breathing,” said Kitty. 

“Hey, no, don’t think that way. She didn’t stand a chance before you got in there. You got her out breathing,” said Johnny. “The firemen and -women don’t ask a sixteen-year-old trainee walk into a fire if they can think of any way around it. You were her only hope, and she’s breathing.”

“Johnny!” called the Chief of the Fire Brigade. “We’re clear. Do it.”

“Step away from the oxygen tank,” said Peter but Johnny was already sprinting away, bursting into flames and shooting up into the air. He flew around the building, fire rushing away from the structure and gathering to him. It was left a burnt-out carcass, and he flew so high before pushing the flames away from him in a burst. He landed in a classic superhero pose, one hand and one knee on the ground. 

Peter heard Bobby, out of breath, still throwing up buttresses, “Someone tell me when to stop. This is my first mission, I have literally no idea what I’m doing.” All three of them snickered at his words.

“It’s going to come down anyway. Everyone is out. Give up,” the Chief called. Bobby stopped, rolled his head on his shoulders and walked, with obvious exhaustion, over to them.

Looking at Kitty he said, “Are we allowed to take our masks off? I am so sweaty.”

“Don’t you dare,” Hank called. “Professor Xavier is going to be reading me the riot act over Shadowcat doing it. Don’t make it worse for me. Remember, once upon a time he was my principal and I don’t like getting sent to his office any more than you do when you’re in trouble.”

Johnny hugged him saying, “You were amazing, gorgeous.”

Peter breathed and it was just a couple of minutes before the Fire Chief came over to them, “To the best of anyone’s knowledge, you got everyone out of the building. You did it.” Looking at Kitty and Bobby he said, “No one wants Spidey getting smoke inhalation but I’m so pleased you were here. It’s a really honor to meet superheroes in training.” He introduced himself to them and shook their hands. 

Hank came back and said, “Okay, you three, back to Westchester so I can get a good look at Spidey’s chest.”

“Can I come?” asked Johnny.

Hank studied him, “No naked, ‘First mission,’ celebration with Ice.”

“Why does everyone keep — we haven’t been dating that long. We’re not there yet. We don’t need the lectures,” Johnny protested.

“Fine,” said Hank. 

Peter wrapped an arm around Kitty’s waist and said, “Arms around my neck: I’ll swing you up.” 

“There’s a ladder and you shouldn’t be exerting yourself when I don’t know what’s happening in your chest,” said Hank.

“Yes, but this is fun, relatively easy and Cat’s week has sucked out loud,” said Peter and took off before Hank could argue. She laughed as they swung, enjoying the ride and they beat Johnny. Ice and Hank came up only a moment later on a pillar of ice which Bobby immediately pulled back into his hand.

“Seat belts,” said Hank as they got in.

“Seriously?” asked Johnny. 

“Statistically speaking, you are way more likely to die in a plane crash than supering.”

“I’m flying,” said Johnny. Hank didn’t argue. Everyone knew Johnny was the best at it. 

“That’s a skewed statistic,” said Kitty. “The number of people supering versus the number of people in planes is tiny. It’s as stupid as saying a car crash is more likely to kill you than a shark.”

“That’s not true?” asked Johnny, going through flight pre-checks. He liked to pretend he was an airhead but he would never take off without doing them when they weren’t under fire. 

“How many times have you been in the ocean this year?” she asked.

“I never made it to the beach this year,” he replied.

“How many times have you gotten into a car this year?”

“Six or seven hundred times,” he said. 

“Then you had six or seven hundred chances to die in a crash but not a single opportunity to get eaten by a shark,” she concluded. “If you had been in the ocean six or seven hundred times, then the statistic would be different for you. For superheroes, we are way more likely to die in action than in a plane.”

“Huh, everyone buckled in?” There was a chorus of “yes” and Johnny took off smoothly. 

“What were you kids talking about over by the ambulance?” asked Hank.

“Senator Kelly,” said Kitty.

“Ah,” said Hank. “I wish I could tell you all that we were safe; I wish I could tell you not to be scared. I want to say this will all blow over. But I don’t want to lie. We live in terrifying times. At least your grandfather’s rugelach are delicious.” 

“I hope the little kids haven’t eaten them all,” she said. 

“I assure you: the adults are guarding them. After the week you’ve had? You’re the only one allowed to give those out,” Hank said gently.

They went to the mansion, where X-rays were the first order of business and then he was being sedated as Hank said, “Just relax. Bruce and I will take good care of you.”

Peter caught his hand as he was going under. “I’m done with the mask inside the mansion. I like and trust our people.” He wasn’t fully unconscious. 

***

He was vaguely aware of what was going on. Then he was groggy and Kitty was there, “How’d I do?”

“Basically healthy, take it easy until the twenty-sixth and you’ll be fine. We can have a sleepover.”

“The woman you saved?” he asked.

“No news yet,” she was tear stained and he reached out, still groggy. He missed her hand but she caught his.

“Why crying?” he asked, still a little groggy. 

“The cops are real, real angry. They didn’t want it. A first responder, maybe a fireman, maybe one of the paramedics, recorded our whole conversation and put the video on YouTube. It’s gone viral.” 

Peter breathed out slowly. “All of it?”

“Our talk, a close up of me without my mask, me going in, me getting that woman out: all of it,” she shrugged. “Kids from my old school put my name out there. My whole rant or ramble. It’s all out there.”

“Not a rant or a ramble. Eloquent as always,” he promised. “Too much swearing.”

“Yeah, Zeyde already gave me that speech.”

“He called?”

“It’s already gone viral and he’s an insomniac who loves the internet. There’s a couple of hashtags going around #ShesMyRabbi and #LouderForTheOnesInTheBack. The Rabbinical Council of America says they would welcome a bright young woman like me into their ranks but that I gotta give up bacon. People are talking about organizing a march on Washington… A lot of people aren’t saying nice things. Some people think, from what I said about the X-Men working to show people that they shouldn’t be scared of us, that they’re actually a sleeper cell trying to lull them into trusting us… I might have made things worse.”

“A private conversation with your friends isn’t responsible for this mess,” Peter assured her. “Where are Johnny and Bobby?”

“Making out somewhere,” she shrugged. “I asked them for a little time alone.”

“Time is it?” he asked. 

“A little after one,” she shrugged. “How are you feeling?”

“High as a kite.” He swallowed, “My throat is a little sore but my healing power will take care of that in ten minutes.”

“You should be used to feeling high in this house,” she shrugged. “You want me to get the doctors or you want to go to bed? They said you were fine.”

“Bed,” said Peter. He struggled up and realized he had an IV. “What’s this?”

“You were dehydrated,” said Kitty. Peter lifted the pole up and carried it with him up the stairs.

“You gonna be able to sleep?” he asked. She just sighed. “You want to raid the fridge? Some tryptophan in the form of turkey and milk? Might help.”

“Sure, if only to not have to look at my pillow. You want rugelach?”

“I would love to have rugelach, compare it to Zabar’s and find out how screwed up theirs are.”

“Theirs are pretty good. We actually have some here,” said Kitty. “Every holiday, Ms. Grey goes crazy and orders like a thousand dollars of Jewish snacks from there.” She stood on tip toes to get a white box off the top of the fridge. “We’ll do a blind taste. You pour out the milk and I’ll do it.” Peter as asked and when he turned back she had a plate with eight little rugelach. “Okay, four of each: Zabar’s and Zeyde’s, head to head. Be honest and don’t cheat.”

He took one of each and tried bites, “The first one is best. It’s really buttery and flaky.”

She smiled, “I think it’s love that makes them better. But I also think, more realistically, he uses a better ratio of butter, sour cream and cream cheese than they do.”

With a laugh he said, “I was worried I would pick the wrong one but it is way better.”

“Right? That’s why the little kids want these more than the bought ones.” She stared at the pastry. “I think I made it all worse.” 

“You got a march. That wasn’t going to happen. And, hey, now you’re a Twitter rabbi. You wanted to be a rabbi.” She laughed. “You got a march — that’s huge.”

“Yeah, but everyone knows my name and there is no way Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Leeds could see that and not put it together. You were doing the Spider-Man voice but with the four of us talking? With Johnny talking about Bobby? These is no way MJ and Ned’s moms don’t see that you’re you.”

He nodded and said, “You got a march, Kitty, that’s amazing. Let me worry about Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Leeds.” The door to the kitchen swung open. 

Remy was rubbing his eyes, “Do I want coffee or Nyquil?” He saw Peter’s unmasked face and covered his eyes. “I saw nothing.”

“I’m finally ready to give up the mask in the mansion. You can relax.”

Remi took his hands away from his eyes, “Hello. How are you feeling?”

“Banana bag,” Peter pointed, “I’m fine. Hank is just a worry wort. I vote not Nyquil and not coffee: come have pastry and milk with us. What do you do here for Christmas? I saw the tree.”

“Santa visits all our children, not just our handful of Christians, we sing a few songs. We have a nice lunch. A few families come, y’know, not many of our kids have supportive parents but Bobby’s parents always come, a couple others. They always want to go for a walk after lunch. I always make gumbo and I get pounds upon pounds of divinity shipped from home. I get tipsy and set off fireworks for the kids. It’s a fun day.”

“Cool,” said Peter. “Fireworks are not a part of my Christmas. I’ve got Santa, changing into brand new PJs to wear all day, too much food and a walk after lunch.”

“Santa comes to your house?” asked Remy. “I didn’t realize you had younger siblings.”

“I don’t but Santa comes if you believe in him and I believe in Santa. May would kill me if I didn’t.” 

Remy laughed, “She might.” He nodded. “So do you have a name to go along with that face? Or are we sticking to ‘Spider-Man’? It’s fine either way.”

“Peter Parker.”

Remy nodded, “Okay. Kitty, how are you doing with your new fame?”

“I don’t like it and I hate the person who recorded it.”

“I don’t know if you should.”

“Remy, a march might do nothing and now everyone with an internet connection knows my face and name.”

Remy reached out and stroked her cheek, “A march might do nothing, or it might be huge. And popular opinion informs laws. Ninety percent of the talk online is overwhelmingly positive. For some it was a wakeup call to action. For others it changed their minds. A teenage girl training to be a hero talking about her fears, and the fears of a grandfather who was locked in Dachau, changed their minds. You might go down in the books as the woman who changed the course of mutant rights history for the better. You may have turned the tides.” 

Hank walked in and blinked, “Kitty, I thought you were going to call me when Spider-Man woke up.”

“You didn’t tell me to,” said Kitty.

“I thought that was implicit,” said Hank.

“It was not,” said Kitty. “Also, Pete scrapped the codename.”

“You sure?” asked Hank. “You think you should talk that over with May?”

“Watching that fire and talking about Senator Kelly… normal people scare me but we don’t. Watching that fire? I made my decision and May won’t change my mind.”

Hank nodded, “Okay, plan: you don’t tell anyone else until you’ve slept and you’re well rested. Please? Because right now all you’re thinking about is a burnt down home and a bastard hurting your friend on TV. So, please, sleep on it because this is big. Please?”

“Okay,” agreed Peter. “Remy, you’re sworn to secrecy, ‘kay?”

“Yup,” agreed Remy. “Should I have Nyquil or coffee?” he asked Hank. 

“Half a Tylenol PM swallowed with a good slug of whiskey,” Hank replied. He took Peter’s wrist and looked at his watch.

“This is why you’re everyone’s favorite doctor,” said Remy before getting up and getting a chair to get into the liquor cabinet.

“I know your metabolism, your biology and your schedule: slug of whiskey and half a Tylenol PM.” Releasing Peter’s wrist he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“My throat was sore but Kitty’s grandfather fixed it with dairy products.”

“Good, your lungs did take a hit but they were healing while I was looking at them. I put you on oxygen for about forty minutes while you were under, just making sure you were getting enough. Just take it easy. Stay grounded, no hard work, no more swinging until after Christmas. I texted the cops and May.”

“I was really only planning on phoning it in tomorrow afternoon anyway and then taking the rest of it off.”

“Don’t even half ass it tomorrow, just veg here; Bobby can lend you PJs.”

“Poor Lucky. He doesn’t like sleeping when I’m not home.”

“Lucky will just have to accept it. Let me go get some gloves so I can take out your IV. It’s empty and you’re okay to drink now.”

“Cool, Remy, pour me a whiskey,” said Peter, watching Hank’s back. The man laughed but didn’t turn around.

Remy laughed, “Not that kinda drinking.” He bit a pill in half and said, “Kitty, you want the other half?” 

“Yes please,” she put her hand out and accepted the pill and swallowed it with milk. “Thanks. Pete, you think we can trust Johnny and Bobby enough to not do anything that’s gonna get them in trouble if I crash out in your bed?”

“Not get in trouble? No, we can’t trust that. Can we trust them not to do anything they don’t want to do, or feel ready to do or have discussed? Yes. We can trust that.”

Hank came back with gloves on and quickly took the IV out and said, “Kitty, how are you doing?”

She shrugged, “Remy gave me half his Tylenol. I’m gonna try and crash out in Peter’s bed.”

“Remy, don’t drug the kids,” said Hank.

“It’s Tylenol,” said Remy.

Kitty shook her head. “Believe it or not, at sixteen, I decide what I put in my mouth.” Peter snorted and Remy looked away, biting his lip. “Shut up. You know what I meant. Dr. McCoy, I can take half a Tylenol.”

“Wanna go to bed?” asked Peter. 

“I want to try, because I don’t want to be awake in this hellish day anymore.” She tilted her head back to rake her hands over her face and Peter saw her necklace. It looked like a delicate plant wrapped around her neck as a choker. She was still wearing her everyday Star of David with it.

“Is that what your grandpa sent you?” asked Peter. “It’s really pretty.”

“It’s a little olive branch,” said Kitty.

“Olive branches are gold?” asked Peter.

“They are when you’re Samuel Prydeman’s only granddaughter and a senator rips you a new one on C-SPAN,” she nodded.

“It’s really pretty,” said Peter.

“God, you’re so straight. It’s not pretty; it’s exquisite,” she corrected him. “He’s always had beautiful taste in jewelry. Bed?”

“Night, Remy, Hank,” said Peter and he and Kitty went up the stairs quietly. When he opened the door he saw that Johnny and Bobby were on the bed in PJ’s. Bobby’s back was again the headboard and Johnny was lounging back against Bobby’s chest. They were speaking in low voices but smiled as the door opened. 

“Hey,” said Bobby.

“I figured you two would be off somewhere almost having sex,” said Kitty.

“You wanted some time by yourself but we’re not dicks,” said Johnny. There was a blow up mattress, fully inflated, “We figured we could all crash out in here.”

“How are you doing?” asked Bobby gently. 

Kitty shook her head, “Not that tone, not the kind understanding one, Bobby. I really got myself together about ten minutes before Pete woke up and I don’t want to be a mess again.”

“You aren’t a mess,” said Peter.

“You missed the bit where I cried so hard I scared Mr. Summers and Dr. Banner talked me down with yoga breathing and then I was still freaking out and I put my hand through his shoulder. Then he was trying not to vomit while assuring me that I shouldn’t be embarrassed. I haven’t lost control in two years. It’s the mutant equivalent of pissing your pants. Like, sure you shouldn’t be embarrassed if you have an accident in kindergarten but when you’re sixteen it’s not okay. My embarrassment distracted me from freaking out. He was trying so hard not to puke. He lost the fight. So humiliating.”

“Hey,” said Johnny. “I know it’s lame, it’s really lame, but can I just say: Peter saved thirteen people and a dog; Bobby kicked ass on his very first mission and you got that woman out when she had no hope. You gave her a chance. It was a good night. Something terrible has happened. It’s terrible. But fourteen people and a dog got out of there because of you three and that’s not such a small thing. It was a good night. Terrible consequences. You can feel really proud of yourselves.”

Bobby hugged Johnny back against him, “I really like how lame and earnest you are. You seem so cool and aloof on TV but you’re a total dork. And it’s great: it’s so nice to be the cool one in my relationship with a model.” Johnny smiled over his shoulder at him and kissed him, still smiling. 

“I was really scared that you would be disappointed in the real me.”

“No, the guy who finds the silver lining in this shitshow of a night is way better than the shirtless pretty boy biting his lip and smoldering at the camera,” said Bobby.

“I have a photo shoot on the second, want to come?” asked Johnny.

“The internet already hates me without knowing my face, I’ll sit it out thanks.”

Peter groaned, “Oh God, do Johnny’s groupies hate that he has an awesome boyfriend?”

Bobby nodded, “And that he seems happy with me and not sexily angsty.”

“Seriously?” asked Peter.

“2Hot4U1984 says Johnny’s prettiest when he’s sad,” said Bobby.

“It got tens of thousands of likes,” Johnny agreed, sounding sad. “Plus, they’re real pissed that I’m with a mutant. Like mutantkind stole one of the hot ones.”

“They don’t notice that your eyes are too blue?” asked Peter. “No one who hasn’t been in a solar storm that bleached out their eyes could possibly have that shade of blue. You weren’t stolen, you’re with your own kind.”

Johnny smiled. “I just replied that it’s unbecoming for a thirty-four-year-old to be so pissy about a high school couple and that anyone who resents me being happy isn’t a fan.”

“It got more likes than 2Hot4U1984’s,” said Bobby.

Peter sighed, “Ninety percent of the internet is spite and porn.”

“Hey,” said Johnny, “You saved fifteen lives and the four of us are sitting here together.” Kitty yawned and Johnny said, “Walking wounded and brutalized girl get the real bed,” he and Bobby moved as Peter grabbed the PJs off the foot of the bed. In the bathroom, Peter changed and brushed his teeth, mouth feeling fuzzy from the medical test. He went back and curled into Kitty and fell asleep almost instantly. 

There was a knock at the door and then Charles’ voice said softly, “Children, I know you haven’t been asleep long but there is breakfast and things are happening in Washington.”

“Things?” asked Kitty, struggling up.

“So much outcry that they’ve called both houses back into session,” said Charles. “Two antimutant bills were struck down in the Senate. Within the next few hours new bills are apparently being presented on the floor. It seems like we might be getting an updated Civil Rights Act.”

“I’m awake,” said Bobby.

“Grab pancakes from the kitchen, we have C-SPAN playing in the auditorium.”

Kitty pulled her hair into a messy bun and said, “I’ll brush my teeth during a commercial break.” 

She went to the door and Charles caught her wrist, “How did you sleep?”

“I passed out. I was slightly drugged and Peter is a sleep cuddler. But I don’t feel any better,” she answered. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to, I’m glad you got at least a few hours of sleep. Get pancakes and come to the auditorium.” 

“We’re not supposed to eat in the auditorium,” said Bobby.

“True,” Charles nodded, “but yesterday it seemed like we all might land in a concentration camp in Wyoming and today it seems like we might be able to live openly without fear of legal authority. So get pancakes and come watch.”

Peter went downstairs to the kitchen where Scott recoiled, “Spidey, you’re not wearing your mask.”

“Scott, I thought about it and I’m really not worried about our people knowing my face. I’m afraid of the Senator Kellys of this world.”

“It looks like he might be getting expelled from Congress.”

“Seriously?” asked Peter. 

“Seriously,” said Scott, “So maybe put the mask back?”

“Nah, I’m done being afraid.”

“Okay, so, name?”

“Peter,” said Peter. “Peter Parker, because a million superheroes have alliterative names.” Ororo came in and stopped dead, she looked at Peter and raised her hand to her mouth, looking overwhelmed with emotion. 

“Ororo, are you okay?” asked Scott. 

“A child came to the door, so thin, so injured, in so much pain. He asked for Hank. And if a kid turns up that hurt, half dead, you don’t ask questions you just get them the grownup they want. And then I found out afterwards that it was Spider-Man and I never saw your face again. You look amazing.” 

“Oh my gosh, Ororo, I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I should not have worn the mask around you. I’m fine. I’m good. I’m sorry you didn’t see me getting back to good. I’m not the broken boy SHIELD and the motherhuggers hurt. I’m me again. We’re not close, like, we’ve never been friends so you might not believe me but I’m real sorry and I’m fine. I’m Peter, by the way, Peter Parker.” 

“Peter,” she smiled. “You look really good.”

“I feel good,” he said.

“I remember,” said Kitty. 

Peter laughed and at the look of horror on Ororo’s face, “It’s a quote from Buffy. Don’t freak out.” Scott passed off plates of pancakes and bacon. Peter poured syrup all over his plate. “Thanks for breakfast, Scott.”

“Always welcome, Peter,” Scott smiled at him. “You four were the last who needed feeding. Let’s go watch this mess.”

“Mr. Summers, I’m sorry I scared you last night,” said Kitty.

“I know, Cat, you have nothing to apologize for. It was a bad night, but it might be a good day.” He stroked her arm. “You might have made it a really good day.”

The auditorium had stadium seating. It was filled, teachers and the little kids were all together. The little kids were playing quietly, whispering with their heads together and running up and down the stairs on tip toe, playing tag quietly. They were young enough that they didn’t understand why they should be transfixed by the news but old enough to know that it was important not to distract the others. Everyone else was transfixed by C-SPAN. People glanced up as they entered the room, ninety percent of them did a double take and studied him for a moment before politely looking away. The little kids weren’t trained in social etiquette and studied him openly. Peter smiled at them as he and his friends found seats together.

Remy came over and whispered, “It seems like your friend Mr. Kelly is going to be censured. The good people of Kansas are calling for a recall election on grounds of misconduct. As though they didn’t put him there knowing full well what he thought of us… we’re very lucky you’re pretty. A pretty girl can change public opinion, a guy with red eyes is just a pissed off freak. As horribly invasive as it was — as awful as it is to have your identity on the internet — that video might have been the best thing that has ever happened to Homo superior. I’m not saying it’s okay, not minimizing what you’re going through, and I’m not saying it was worth it but I’m trying to help you find a little glimmer of light.” 

“Thank you, Remy,” she said before sitting down to eat her bacon.

To Peter, Remy said, “No mask?”

“No, done,” said Peter. They settled down and were watching talking heads speak about them as though they were talking about ideas instead of lives. Hank came in and rolled his eyes when he saw Peter. He came over and Peter said, “I slept, I made up my mind.” 

Hank nodded and said, “Okay, let me do a very brief very noninvasive check?”

“Do I have to take off my pants?”

“Those are Bobby’s pants and no, you can keep them on.” Hank spent five minutes poking and prodding him and said, “Good, you’re good, just take it easy for a couple of days.”

They settled in and ate their breakfast, watching the screen. The room was nearly silent. The last time Peter had watched C-SPAN it had been when SHIELD had been testifying about torturing an American minor. He really wanted him and his friends to be making fun viral videos on purpose, not be the focus of Congress. He and his friends were lounging against each other, still tired. A twenty-five minute recess was called. Kitty stretched and said, “Teeth, hair, clothes.”

“Pete and I don’t have clothes, just uniforms that reek of smoke,” said Johnny. 

“Well, Johnny, that’s your problem,” she booped his nose as she passed. 

They went up to get ready for the day even though he and Johnny were staying in PJs, they brushed their teeth and washed their faces. Kitty came back, dressed with eyeliner and mascara and two inch heels. “Why are you dressed up?” asked Peter.

“We’re going to your house for Christmas Eve Eve,” said Kitty. “I don’t get many chances to get dressed up.”

“I will be turning up to this dinner in my boyfriend’s jammies,” said Johnny. 

“You can eat sausage mac and cheese in pretty much anything,” said Peter.

“Mac and cheese will be delicious but it’s not as fancy as I was expecting,” said Kitty.

“Christmas Eve Eve is pasta, Christmas Eve is the Feast of the Seven Fishes. May’s family comes… it’s a mixed bag. And then Christmas day we usually have roast chicken or beef.”

“Why is a feast with seven fish a mixed bag? That sounds awesome,” said Bobby.

Peter shrugged, “May’s mother always finds a way to make a dig. She says stuff like, ‘it’s so nice to have the whole family together and Peter.’” He shook his head, “Last year I actually told her off because I cracked. She was rude about Ben while saying how sorry she was for our loss. Apologizing in one breath and making a snipe in the next. We didn’t need to be reminded that it was our first Christmas without him. And I lost it and said, ‘We know that you have always viewed Ben and me as interlopers. But my uncle just died and your daughter is a new widow and she is hosting a four-hour meal so maybe, for once, stop being spiteful.’ Then it was awkward. And after dinner, when the adults were drinking coffee, May’s mom invited us to her house for the next day. I think it was supposed to be an olive branch but May said, ‘No, Peter and I are having a quiet family Christmas here.’ We’re not sure if her mom is coming tomorrow. If she doesn’t come, it’s going to be awesome. It’s a feast with seven different fishes. How frequently do you get to eat deep fried scampi and calamari in the same meal and not be judged for being a glutton?” He took his flip phone from the bedside table, he had left his smartphone at home. He texted May, “We’re watching C-SPAN here. Still on for tonight?”

“Remind people to bring PJs; Hank says he’ll bring you after they light the menorah.”

He nodded and texted back, “I’m not using my mask or my codename here at school. Sorry, we didn’t talk about it but it feels better and right.”

There was a text back quickly that said, “I love and support you. And I trust them.”

“May told me to remind you to bring PJs,” he said. They swung by the kitchen and grabbed energy drinks from the top shelf. 

The box said, “Ask an adult if this is a good idea.” Marie came in and Peter smiled. “Rogue, are you enough of an adult to sign off on three out of the four of us drinking these? Johnny doesn’t need permission. You started teaching in the fall, right?”

“Well, I don’t think I’m old enough, but it’s a weird day so sure, hon, have the Monster. Of course this is not the way the conversation should have started.” Then she said, “Hi, I’m Marie.”

“Sorry, wow, it’s me: Spider-Man.”

She nodded, “I know that but.”

“Peter Parker,” he added, “hi.”

“Hi, Peter, I’m Marie when I’m not in uniform.”

“Can I call you Marie?” asked Bobby.

“Not when you’re in class, young man,” she poured herself some coffee. “Grab snacks, they’re about to start fighting about our lives again.”

They grabbed string cheeses and the giant Costco box of Ritz crackers before heading back into the auditorium. People weren’t in their seats on TV, still milling around. That translated to the people in the auditorium milling around too. Bruce came over and said, “So, did you scorch the mask last night or is this actually a choice?”

“I’m done with the secrecy amongst friends; it’s tired. I’m just being me,” Peter shrugged. “Feels good.”

“Good,” said Bruce, “I get that, man, I really do.”

“Y’know, you’re probably the person who most in the world does understand it: radioactive guy who got betrayed by the Avengers. Everyone in this room is suffering because of the public’s perception. Kitty’s privacy got torpedoed. And you and I don’t fully understand that. But, we do get how good it is to own our faces.” 

One of the fourth graders, Mason, came over and said, “We have a bet going.”

“Okay,” said Peter. 

“Did you choose to take the mask off or did you rip it in the fire? Because if you ripped it, we’re gonna be polite and not ask your name but,” Mason explained.

“Peter Parker,” answered Peter. “I’m afraid a lot of the time. If you decide to be an X-Man, you’re going to be afraid of bad guys and explosions. I’m sick of being afraid. I’m afraid of that man,” he pointed to Senator Kelly on the screen, “I’m not afraid of anyone in this room so I took off the mask and I’m Peter.”

“Okay, Peter, can I have a sleeve of your Ritzs?” he asked and Peter gave him a sleeve. “Can I have a sip of your Monster, please?”

“Nope,” said Peter. 

“C’mon,” said Mason. “The adults never let us have them and you don’t go here so you can’t get in trouble for giving me a sip.”

“Mason, I’m pretty sure I can get in trouble,” disagreed Peter. “For one thing, the adults can totally take my Monster away and I want my Monster.”

“I’m right here,” said Bruce. “Mason, no.”

“But are you actually a teacher?” asked Mason.

“Kinda,” said Bruce. “Next school year I’m a full teacher. No Monster.”

The kid sighed, “I’m going to go back to my friends.”

“Spread my name around liberally because I’m tired and introducing myself over and over again is exhausting,” said Peter.

“Okay,” said Mason, “thanks for the Ritzs.”

A ton of motions were being put forward tabling different bills and bringing others forward for debate. They got pizza delivered at one for lunch and continued watching. At three, Professor X went to the front of the auditorium. “Kids, it’s a beautiful sunny day and the sunsets in an hour and a half. I want you to take an hour to go outside or read by a window or take a shower with sunlight coming through a window. You need to leave this room for an hour and a half. If anything historic happens they’ll reshow it, over and over. I am not sure if us sitting here watching people make choices about things that impact us and not them is healthy. I know that I, for one, want to watch every minute of it. But, for an hour and a half, we are going to turn off the TV and after that we are going to light the menorah, then we’ll order Chinese food and then we’ll watch this circus until we are tired or vomit, whichever comes first.” He turned off the projector with a remote, “Go see the daylight.”

Kitty sighed heavily and jumped over the rows of seats, not bothering with trying to get to the aisle, filling with people. With his enhanced senses, Peter heard her speak even though she didn’t raise her voice, “Please. Bobby and I are going to go to Peter’s and be good guests. You can watch this all night; we’re going to go be good guests; we’re not going to be watching. Please, please, don’t make us go outside. Just let the four of us watch, please, Professor Xavier, please.”

He nodded, “Okay, okay, you four can stay. Let’s just allow the room to empty out. Then we’ll turn it back it on.”

“You can go,” she said, “It’s just the blue button.”

“I’m going to stay. If you’re watching this I’m staying with you.”

“It’s a sunny day, Professor, you should see it.”

“I’m eighty-eight-years-old I’ve seen sunny days. If you’re staying here I am too, and I’m perfectly fine with that.”

“Thanks, Professor.” 

The kids cleared out and Professor Xavier went back toward his seat and Peter said, “Let’s go sit with Charles.” Johnny and Bobby, looked confused, having not heard the exchange. “The four of us are going to watch with Charles, so let’s go sit with him.” They all moved down a few rows and over a few aisles. “Mind if we join you, Charles?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “How is your first mask-less day going?” 

“I’m sitting in a semi-dark room eating snacks watching TV,” said Peter. 

“It’s still a brave move,” he said, seriously. They settled and Charles said, “Kitty, I know that it’s terrible. But they have voted no on four antimutant bills today. They have never voted down antimutant bills before. Not losing is giant win for us. You did this. These wins are all yours.” He raised an arm and put it around her. She rested her head on his shoulder. “It might not look like it, but this is winning: this is how it starts.” 

It didn’t feel like very long at all before Scott was standing in the doorway, “Charles, guys, the sun has set. It’s time to light the menorah.”

“Come on, Peter and Johnny. Have you ever seen this before?” asked Charles. 

“No, should I do a fast Google on etiquette?” asked Johnny.

“It’s too late for that, Johnny,” said Charles with a smile. In the front hall everyone was gathered, people up and down the stairs. “Just say ‘Amen’ when everyone else does.”

Ruth was at the menorah and smiled at them as they came in. They found a spot to slot into and listened to the prayer as the candles were lit. Once it was over, Hank said, “There are gifts at the foot of your beds.” There was a borderline stampede of kids on the stairs. 

Bobby laughed and said, “It’s funny but I also really want to see my new PJs.”

“You know what your gift is?” asked Peter.

“It’s the fifth day of Hanukkah at the Xavier School,” said Kitty. “It’s PJs. Ohh! Maybe I got those slippers I wanted.” The rush had died down and she said, “Be right back.” The older kids all headed up with barely hidden excitement. 

Then Jean came and handed both him and Johnny mesh bags of chocolate gelt, “Happy Hanukkah, boys.”

“Wow, really?” asked Peter. 

Jean smiled, “You’re under twenty-one in a Jewish household where we take holidays seriously. A lot of these kids are yearning to hear their parents say the blessings. And a lot of them won’t get a phone call or a present sent from home. So everyone gets Hanukkah presents and everyone gets a gift from Santa. You are part of everyone. Happy Hanukkah.”

“Happy Hanukkah, Jean,” Peter said and kissed her cheek. 

“Careful,” said Scott.

“That’s insulting to your wife,” said Peter. “You imply that a sixteen-year-old could turn her head. Rude.” Both Scott and Jean laughed. “Does anyone want gelt?”

“That’s yours,” said Scott.

Bobby came down holding an overnight bag and said, “My reindeer PJs are great; thank you all.” 

“You’re welcome, you ready to go?” asked Hank.

A little kid came, in a set of Spider-Man PJs, mask on, “Look, Peter!”

“Wow, it’s Spider-Man!” said Peter. “You look awesome.” He gave the kid a high five as he passed. Once he was gone he asked, "Was that Mike or Cam? I swear they have the same voice.”

“I know, right?” said Bobby. “I assume that was Cam; he’s super into you.”

“Cool,” said Peter. “Very cool. I love my merch. It’s cooler seeing it in the wild.”

“It makes Hanukkah cheaper when the little kids want MSF stuff,” said Hank. “You won’t be getting any money off that one, or any of the other stuff some different kids are getting over the holidays.”

“Well, when it’s family it doesn’t matter and Cam looks baller,” said Peter.

Kitty came to the top of the stairs, “It feels like I’m stepping on kittens. Thank you.” She jogged down the stairs in sheepskin slippers, with her overnight bag over her shoulder. At the bottom of the stairs, Kitty modeled the slippers before using Peter’s shoulder to swap her slippers for her heels. “I love them.”

“Well, now that Peter let the cat out of the bag,” said Remy, “shall I drive them to Peter’s? Save you a drive, Hank?”

“I mean if you don’t mind,” said Hank. “I’d be thrilled not to drive to Queens.”

“Eww, Queens?” asked Remy. 

“You think I’m the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man in a neighborhood where I don’t live?” asked Peter. 

Remy groaned, “I just volunteered to drive on the G.W. Bridge.” He sighed. “Save me two eggrolls.”

“You got it, hero,” said Hank.

“Not the G.W. It’s the Bronx River to the Hutchinson River to the Union Turnpike,” said Peter. 

They drove to the house in one of the school’s minivans, Remy playing weird creole music. Peter called May, turning the music down. She picked up and he said, “Remy is driving us, Kitty is wearing heels and Johnny and I are in Bobby’s PJs.”

“Would Remy like to stay?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Well, seven people to dinner or eight makes no difference. Invite him. This is the easy dinner.”

“Kay,” He moved the phone away from his mouth, “Remy, May just invited you to dinner. You want in?”

“I wouldn’t want to encroach,” said Remy.

“You wouldn’t be,” said Peter, “you’re very welcome guest. One way you’ll be outnumbered by children with eggrolls the other you’ll be outnumbered by children with mac and cheese with sausage meatballs.” 

“Ohhh, sausage meatballs?” repeated Remy.

Peter laughed and said, “Remy’s in, we are on The Hutch so we’ll be there in fifteen?”

“Okay, Ned’s here already, MJ is going to be a little late. See you soon, sweetie.”

Hanging up he said, “Ned’s there, MJ is coming.”

“Ned is the bubbly kid and MJ is your girlfriend, right?” asked Remy.

Everyone other than Peter laughed. “She’s not my girlfriend,” said Peter.

“Really?” asked Remy. “Are you sure?” 

The others laughed harder, “I just like her.”

“And you are also unaware of the fact that she likes you?” asked Remy. 

Peter started shaking his head and Johnny said, “It’s hilarious to watch. Peter is unaware that MJ likes him. MJ is unsure of what to do. Ned is in the middle of it completely oblivious.”

“Imagine two puppies with giant ears that they keep stepping on and then being confused as to why they keep falling over,” said Kitty. “And there’s a third puppy sleeping that they keep falling on but it keeps sleeping.”

“Shut up,” said Peter. “I could ruin our friendship.” He gave Remy directions to the house and said, “You can park in the driveway. May’s in the garage.”

“Wow, look at your pretty lights,” said Kitty. “I’m so excited!” They walked up the front steps, the path was dry from salt. Peter opened the door and Kitty gasped, “So pretty. Oh my God, Peter.” 

Lucky came running and jumped on Peter. “Hey, gorgeous, hi. Sorry I wasn’t here last night.” Peter stroked him all over. “I missed you.” 

May came and Kitty gushed over the decorations. Bobby said, “It’s beautiful and it smells amazing.”

“Kitty, are you okay?” asked May.

Kitty shook her head, “Not really. Four bills failed today. Professor Xavier says that’s winning. But… I can’t believe Ned’s mom and MJ’s mom are okay with them coming.”

“I had a long talk with Ned’s mom this morning where she never actually said but she also did. Just wanted to call and say how glad she was that Peter and Ned had always been such good friends. And how pleased she was that Ned had scored the internship with Reed because Johnny’s so great. And how it’s a shame that Tony Stark is a bastard who will burn in hell but that she’s glad Peter met you two through that internship. And that she’s glad that their group of friends is expanding but that they have remained so close. And that she hoped we all had a lovely time tonight.”

“Wow,” said Kitty, “so she said everything without saying any of it.” 

“Meanwhile,” said Ned from the kitchen door, “she woke me up at eight to tell me that Kitty had been outed. To which my response was, ‘Who is Kitty?’ So that started a whole conversation.”

“You didn’t know Kitty’s name?” asked Remy. 

“I still don’t know Ice’s name.”

“We followed the privacy protocol,” said Bobby, shrugging.

“Wow, impressive,” said Remy. “Ice is called Bobby.”

“Remy!” said everyone other than Ned, who looked too surprised to react.

Remy just grinned and said, “Relax, y’all. The point of the privacy protocol is so that you can slip back into society if you decide not to be an X. Are you honestly going to stop hanging around these kids if you decide to stop being Ice and go back to just being Bobby? No. There was a power imbalance between you and Kitty. I fixed it.”

“Remy, inappropriate,” said May.

“Have I been uninvited from dinner?” asked Remy.

“No, you’re still welcome,” said May. “And Bobby and Kitty, do you guys want to stay for the Feast of the Seven Fishes?”

Kitty sighed and said, “That’s really kind of you but I’m sure your family would recognize me and that doesn’t sound fun. My face was on C-SPAN.”

“My sister April called me to ask what I was bringing to our mother’s house tomorrow,” said May.

There was a collective gasp and Peter said, “Granma Jean is awful.”

“Such a bitch,” agreed May. “So then April felt really, really bad. Mom told her it was all sorted out. April said she was going to come here but I pointed out that if she came Mom would come and be worse than usual. So then we talked about it. April, David and the kids are coming for Christmas Day and Mom is going to Aunt Lisa’s.”

“Poor Aunt Lisa,” said Johnny. 

“Aunt Lisa is eighty-seven, confused and always contented as long as she has company,” said May. “She’ll have a great time. My bitch of a mother is the only one that won’t have a fun Christmas.” There was a knock at the door and she called, “Come in, MJ.” Then she said, “That bitch isn’t welcome in this house.”

“Me?” asked MJ.

“No, sweetie, you’re always welcome,” May smiled at her. “My bitch of a mother is the problem.”

“Swear jar,” said MJ. “My mom is parking. She knows. She hasn’t said anything but she knows.” She went to Kitty and they embraced, “How are you?”

Kitty shrugged. Then she smiled, “May cooked mac and cheese and invited me and Ice to the Feast of the Seven Fishes.”

MJ nodded, “That’s cool. Gorgeous necklace.” There was a knock at the door and MJ said, “I have no idea what’s about to happen.”

“Come in, Madeline,” called May. She pasted a smile on her face and crossed her fingers before heading out to the hall.

“The house looks beautiful from the street,” called Mrs. Jones. “Wow, you even decorated the hall?”

“Oh yes, we are a Christmas family. The kids from the Xavier School just got here.” 

They came into the living room and she smiled at them all, “Hi, guys. Cat, how are you doing?”

“They stopped four pretty bad bills today. Professor Xavier says it’s a win. But my name is all over the internet and my grandfather has now heard me say the f-word repeatedly. I thought I was having a conversation with my friends and instead was being filmed. Maybe tomorrow it will feel like winning.”

“It’s brave of you to even be out of bed today, after that kind of personal invasion. It looks like there will be a special election for Senator Fucking Kelly’s seat,” said Mrs. Jones, clearly swearing in an attempt to make Kitty smile. 

Kitty did smile, but she said, “They’ll give it to someone who dog whistles instead of saying it outright. It’s what they call a conservative area. But they mean that they’re conserving the lifestyle of white Christian non-mutants.”

Mrs. Jones shook her head, “You had a huge impact. In that election, I think it’s very possible that people will vote with shame because none of the assholes are going to want to admit they’re bigots. Keep hope.”

Kitty nodded, “I hope you’re right.”

Then Mrs. Jones smiled at Remy and said, “Hi. I’m Michelle’s mother, Madeline.”

“I assume that’s MJ and she is a credit to you,” said Remy shaking her hand. “I’m Remy.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she said. Then she turned and said, “Peter, how are you doing?”

“I am a-okay. How are you, Mrs. Jones?”

“I’m great. How are your lungs?”

“Mrs. Jones, I like and respect you and I believe you will understand when I say that I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He waited, holding his breath to see if she would accept it.

She nodded, “Okay, I understand that. Well, you kids have fun. Shelly, you got PJs, toothbrush, clothes for the morning and your inhaler?”

“Yes, Mom,” said MJ.

“Okay, have a good night.” Then she smiled and said, “May, the place looks amazing. Thank you for having her over so much.”

“She is such a pleasure,” said May. “Not a troublemaker, like Ned.” Everyone laughed, including Ned.

“Merry Christmas, May,” Mrs. Jones said. 

“Merry Christmas, Madeline,” said May. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone, or — sorry — happy Hanukkah.”

Kitty smiled, “The correct response when someone wishes you a happy or a merry whatever is, ‘Thank you, you too.’ So, thanks, Merry Christmas.” 

May showed her out while Peter and his friends gaped at each other. The door shut and MJ said, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Smooth, Pete. I did not know you could be so smooth, Tiger.” She rummaged through her purse and took out her inhaler, shaking it and taking a puff.

Peter took a deep breath, “My God, you guys. That was scary.”

May came back and shook her head, “Whew, that was scary.”

“Ned’s mom knows and I don’t see a difference,” said Remy.

“I’ve known Ned’s mother for over a decade. Peter and MJ only became friends over the course of last school year. I’ve had all of five conversations with Madeline that weren’t just, ‘Are you picking them up or am I?’ There is a vast difference.” 

“Yes, that’s a big difference,” agreed Remy. “She seemed okay with it. And she didn’t force Peter to talk about it.”

“I was sort of surprised when she asked if I had packed a bag,” said MJ. “I mean, she’s really protective of me and being friends with a superhero isn’t exactly the safest thing you can do.”

“Why don’t you kids bring your stuff up to Peter’s room while Peter helps me put the extra leaves in the table?”

Peter smiled and said, “Remy, go check out my room. It’s awesome. Everyone helped me decorate it and right now it’s even more decorated.” The others went and he followed May into the kitchen.

“How are your lungs, sweetie?” asked May.

“They’re okay. We’re gonna get an early night tonight. We only got a few hours of sleep, between the video and my medical stuff and the C-SPAN this morning.” He picked up one of the heavy wooden slats one-handed as he and May pulled the two halves of the table apart. He placed both the leaves in and clicked them into place. He started setting the table as she stirred the mac and cheese. “Smells so good.”

“I hope it is,” said May. 

The others came down and Remy said, “A perfect room.”

“I love the stars and snow,” said Kitty. “This whole place is Christmas. I love it.”

“Last year we didn’t have the roofline decorated because I didn’t want my fifteen-year-old up there. This year I said, ‘Okay, Spidey, up you go.’” 

Peter laughed and Remy said, “Did you not want to do it last year?”

“It was my husband’s job,” explained May. “He was killed last September.” Last year that had been what sparked off May’s mother, a comment about the bare roofline and seeing what Ben’s contribution to Christmas had been. Ben had always spent hours in the kitchen, helping May. It had made Peter so angry and that’s when he had snapped at her. May smiled at Remy, “Last year was rough. This is going to be a good Christmas and not just because my bitch of a mother isn’t coming.”

“Y’know, Santa Claus is listening,” said Ned. 

“Santa Claus knows she’s a bitch,” said May. “Kids, help yourself to drinks. Remy, would you like a glass of wine? I have a lot of wine. It’s Christmas: I’m not a lush.”

“I wouldn’t have assumed,” said Remy. 

“There are twelve bottles of wine in the fridge, plus a box,” said May.

“Oh, let’s go for the box,” said Remy. 

May laughed, “It’s Christmas, let’s open a bottle.”

Remy smiled and said, “Red?”

“Sounds good,” agreed May. She started pulling things out of the oven. Peter got Remy the wine opener and two glasses. May asked, “What did you guys do today?”

“Charles woke us up a couple of hours after we fell into bed to watch C-SPAN,” said Peter. “We were allowed to eat in the auditorium. Four bad bills just shut down. There was a lot arguing through smiling teeth.”

“Professor Xavier wanted us to turn it off, but we watched until it was time to light the menorah and come here,” said Kitty.

“Peter and I got bags of gelt,” said Johnny.

“Cool. Did you guys get gelt?” she asked Kitty and Bobby.

Kitty laughed, “I got sheepskin slippers.”

“I got PJs with reindeer on them,” said Bobby.

Taking her seat May said, “Remy, would you please say grace?”

Instead of panicking Remy nodded and bowed his head, “We give Thee thanks, Almighty God, for all Thy benefits. We thank Thee for a Congress that might be bigoted but can be shamed into acting when prompted by a child. We thank Thee for giving Peter the strength and bravery to trust his friends. We thank Thee for May and this delicious smelling meal which we shall enjoy together. Amen.” He looked up and saw that the table was looking at him, “What?”

“No one ever said grace before; they just look kinda panicked and we laugh,” said Peter.

“I was raised Catholic,” said Remy. “I don’t panic. I just get on with it.”

“It was a lovely grace,” said May. “And the first one that’s been said in this house for at least seventeen years.”

They talked about the holidays and plans. Kitty was quieter than usual and Ned stroked her back, “You okay?”

“Sorry, just a little distracted,” said Kitty, “mind is still sort of in Washington.”

“They’ll be done for the night by the time we finish dinner,” said May. “We’ll watch the catch-up. And they are far too lazy to be in on Christmas Eve.”

They ate their fill and May said, “There’s no dessert but there’s chocolate everywhere.”

“This was delicious. Thank you, May. I demanded they keep me egg rolls at the Mansion. So, I should get back. Getting the kids home tomorrow? We’d like them home for Christmas morning.”

“I’m open to more guests, if you would like to come back or send a different adult.”

“Hank, perhaps?” asked Remy with a smile.

May sighed, “Your kid gets high and tells a man you have a crush on him and everyone knows.” She shook her head.

“I’ll send Hank,” said Remy.

“Only if he can,” said May. “Anyone is welcome.”

“I’ll send Hank,” repeated Remy.

“It’s gonna be a good Christmas,” said May.

“You’ve noticed he’s a blue furry man?” said Remy.

She smiled, “It’s both more and less shallow than you think. He’s so good to my kid. There was Peter half-starved with a broken leg. And there was Hank, cooking for him, carrying him places, performing surgery. How do seduce a single mother? Take care of her kid. I’m not ready to date or anything like that but I can enjoy the company of a clever, funny, good looking man who likes my kid. I would panic if he actually asked me out, not because he’s blue but because I’m not ready.” Shrugging she said, “See? More and less shallow than you think.”

Remy smiled, “He’ll be here and he’ll bring a menorah with him so you can light it because otherwise Kitty will feel guilty.” Looking around he said, “You have a lovely home, May. And the decorations are beautiful.”

Once he was gone, they changed into PJs, Peter putting on new ones and Johnny said, “This is absurd. I’m a five-minute flight from home. This is not how I want to get into your PJs.” He kissed the side of Bobby’s mouth. “See you in ten minutes.” 

After Johnny left May looked at Bobby and said, “Communication, consent, condoms and not tonight.”

“Thanks, May, but we’re not there yet,” said Bobby.

She nodded and said, “Peter, start a log in the fire; I’m going to make us a pot of chocolate.”

Peter did as asked as his friends sat down. Lucky kept bumping him and he pointed, “Go say hi to Bobby.”

“Bobby and Kitty,” said MJ. “Bobby is so not a superhero name.”

“Like Peter is?” said Bobby.

“Hey,” objected Peter. 

Ignoring him, MJ said, “Kitty Pryde though, now that’s a cooler name than Shadowcat. That’s full on superhero.” 

Kitty laughed. The fire caught and Peter shut the grate to make sure no one fell into it but they could feel the heat. “Does William Drake sound superhero?” asked Bobby.

“No, that sounds like an old statesman,” said Kitty. 

“I don’t feel like a William,” said Bobby. 

Johnny came back as May came in with the hot chocolate. “Perfect timing, Can someone grab three more mugs, please?” asked May.

“Sure,” said MJ. “Once we’re done, we’ll clean up the kitchen. You’re off duty, May, you have a feast to cook tomorrow.”

“I didn’t invite you over to skivvy,” said May.

“No, you invited us over to eat you out of house and home,” said Ned. 

May laughed. “You picked nice friends, Peter.”

“I know, right?” agreed Peter. 

May said, “Okay, get out your phones. I’m turning on C-SPAN; we’ll get caught up.”

Nothing happened in the couple of hours between them lighting the menorah and the closing of the floor. “I guess I can’t really hope for a Hanukkah miracle of them fixing everything today.”

“Let’s watch the Muppets Christmas Carol,” said Johnny. “But first we’ll clean the kitchen.” 

With the six kids working together, it was an easy task and they were soon settled back on the couch and chairs. Within twenty minutes Kitty was passed out and snoring with her head on Ned’s shoulder. “It was a really rough night last night,” said Bobby. 

The movie ended and Johnny said, “Okay, I either need two cups of coffee or bed. I brought over the big blowup bed because you have the little one.”

“Let’s set that up before I carry her up. Let’s try not to wake her up because she had a rough night last night.”

“You had an invasive medical procedure last night,” Johnny reminded him. 

“Oh yeah,” Peter nodded, “But I was drugged for that bit.”

Upstairs he lifted his bed and took it to one side of the room. It gave them space for both the extra mattresses. Looking around Peter said, “I’ll take the hammock; girls get the bed; Johnny and Bobby can have the full sized blowup and, Ned, you can take the twin.” 

Johnny knocked into Peter’s bookshelf and knocked a Gambit doll over. “Sorry, Remy, after you gave us a lift and everything.” He set it back up and put the tiny plastic playing card covered in fake fire back into his hand. They blew up both beds quickly and set them up with blankets and pillows. Peter went downstairs and picked Kitty up gently. He brought her up and MJ pulled the covers back for him to put Kitty in the bed.

“She’s fully out. You guys want peanut butter bread?” asked Peter.

“Yes,” said Johnny, emphatically. Lucky got on the bed and curled up at Kitty’s feet. They went down stairs, May was back in the kitchen.

“Hey, kids, I’m getting stuff ready for tomorrow.”

“Do you need help?” asked Peter.

“I could use some help tomorrow, but I’m good for now,” she assured him. He spread peanut butter on slices of bread and passed them around. “Peanut butter bread is usually a sign of bedtime.”

“Three out of the five of us are about to drop,” said Bobby.

“Where is Cat?” asked May.

“She’s out, fully dead to the world,” said Johnny. 

“Even with the noise of the air mattress inflator?” asked May.

“She’s out,” said Peter. “She didn’t make a noise when I carried her up. Sorry, MJ and Ned.”

“We knew you had a rough night,” said MJ. Taking a bite of bread she asked, “So this is how you finish your day?”

Peter nodded, “One last boost of protein and calories before bed.”

“You were always starving at breakfast,” said May. “I thought you were just growing.”

“May, stop feeling guilty,” said Peter. “I’m fine. It’s Christmas and I’m a-okay and it looks like Congress is being shamed into Bobby and Kitty being okay too.”

“Fingers crossed,” said Bobby. “It would be nice. Maybe I could even become a professional bobsledder.”

“Gorgeous, you know I think you’re perfect and I want every success for you. But, no one is ever going to let you play an ice sport as a professional,” said Johnny. “You’re amazing and wonderful and no one is going to do that. That’s like them letting me into a fire eating contest. You need a new dream, beautiful. Model, maybe?”

“I don’t think so, the left side of my mouth is crooked,” said Bobby. “I actually want to be an X. Because — even if they change all the laws — there’s still only one way to be out and be accepted by society. At least in our life time. I like what my body can do.” He put his hands together and when he opened them there was an ice rose. “Thank you for a delicious dinner, May, and for inviting us for tomorrow.”

“For me?” May asked, with a bright smile.

“For you,” agreed Bobby. She took it with a grin. They finished their peanut butter and milk and Bobby yawned widely. “Bedtime.”

Upstairs they brushed their teeth in shifts. Peter’s whole room had become essentially one mattress. With two full-sized beds and the twin they had to walk sideways to get through. Peter turned off the light from the door and said, “Stars or no stars?”

“Stars,” said MJ. 

He didn’t really care about anyone else’s opinions, “That’s a quorum of two.” He left the stars lit and crawled the wall to get to the hammock and said, “Night.”

He was mostly asleep when he heard Kitty said, “We i’ bed?”

“Yeah, Kitty, we came up to bed,” said Ned. “Go back to sleep.”

“M’kay,” she replied. 

***

Peter woke up slowly. MJ and Ned weren’t in the room. Peter wall crawled over to the door, closing it gently behind him. After brushing his teeth and combing his hair, he headed to the kitchen. Downstairs, the kitchen smelled of coffee. He said, “Morning.” He kissed May’s cheek and grabbed a bagel. 

“This coffee is so good,” said MJ. 

Peter scrunched up his nose, “If you say so.” 

She held out her cup, “Your machine is good, have a sip of mine.”

Peter thought maybe his friends had been right in the car the day before. Maybe it was a romantic gesture, sharing her drink early in the day. But the smell hit him. He had never liked the smell. It was like burning. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat. He pivoted away toward the sink, hanging his head to stop it from spinning. 

“Peter, I’m sorry, are you okay?” MJ rubbed a hand on his lower back “I’m sorry.”

“I haven’t been that close to coffee since the boat.” He kept swallowing saliva, hoping not to puke. 

“Peter,” she said, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, swallowing over and over again. “Just give me a moment; it’s okay. It’s not your fault.” He finally got his gag reflex under control and straightened up. “Whew, that coffee sure woke me up.” He smiled at her. “It’s fine, MJ. It’s totally fine.” He hugged her before going to the fridge for milk. “How did everyone sleep?”

“There is something strangely comforting about sleeping in a room full of people,” said Ned.

Peter shrugged, “Maybe it’s something primal; something in our DNA from when we were still in tribes and there was safety in numbers when we slept. Or maybe it’s just nice to hear breathing in the night and not be lonely.” He offered MJ the bagel and she smiled, taking a bite. 

May said, “I peeked in on you last night. You really did turn your room into a solid bed. It was impressive. I didn’t think you could fit that many beds into a room that size.”

“You can as long as you don’t care about stepping over people to get to the door,” said Peter. 

“I almost kicked Bobby in the face going to the bathroom last night,” said MJ. 

“May, what do you need help with?” asked Peter. 

“Nothing until this afternoon,” said May. “I would suggest that you go to the movies but I don’t think that would be good for Kitty. Video games? Or go visit the Fantastics? Board games? I need the kitchen for a couple of hours.”

“Well, I’m not sure when the others will wake up but MJ, Ned and I can walk Lucky for a half-hour once we’re done with breakfast. Do you need any last-minute things from the supermarket?”

“Tampons,” said May. She smiled at him.

Peter nodded, “Okay, that just requires a bodega.”

“Really?” asked Ned, looking nervous. 

“Fifty percent of humanity menstruates at some point in their life, remain calm, Ned,” said Peter.

May smiled, “I actually expected you to panic.”

“I’ve bought tampons and pads before for, like, embarrassed twelve-year-olds. It’s not embarrassing when you’re a guy in a mask. Now, I just don’t care.”

“Twelve-year-olds?” asked MJ.

“I don’t know their exact age but I would guess about twelve. You see them, nervous outside bodegas. But it’s a different nervousness than ‘about to rob the place’ nervous. It’s ‘the person at the counter is a guy and I only recently started having periods’ nervous. Now I carry a backpack as Spider-Man I should get some just to give out to freaked out sixth graders.”

“You really are a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man,” said MJ, “aren’t you?”

“Sixth-graders need heroes too,” Peter shrugged. “It’s a really easy problem to fix and a really big help to a girl who is freaked out. I really like fixing problems that don’t require my fists.”

May wrote out a list with times on it and watching it Peter said, “Let’s get dressed and give May a little while alone.” 

They ended up spending the day playing outside in the neighborhood. At two he said, “I should head back and help May.”

“I want to learn about cooking shellfish,” said Kitty. “My family is kosher; I didn’t have shellfish or bacon until I came to the school three years ago. Then I figured, ‘Do as the Romans do,’ and it turns out the Romans have great food.”

They headed back to the house where MJ, Ned and Johnny packed their stuff. In the kitchen, Kitty washed her hands and said, “How do we help? Can I do something to help with shellfish, please?”

“Would you like to learn how to peel and devein a shrimp?” asked May.

“I would love to,” agreed Kitty.

They spent the afternoon helping May, listening to Christmas music. They never looked at social media or turned on the news. They just stayed in their fun Christmas bubble, drinking hot chocolate and dancing. In the afternoon, May said, “Pete, would you please take one of the leaves out of the table? And then if you three could take the dog out? I need just a few minutes to set the table and gather myself to be the hostess.”

“Okay, said Peter. “It’s just us, Granma Jean isn’t coming.”

“I know. But, it’s the Feast of the Seven Fishes and I want it to be perfect.”

“Do we have everything we need for tomorrow? It was going to be just you and me. Now we have five guests.”

“April and David are bringing the turkey. I got everything else yesterday. The supermarket was hell but it’s done.”

“It’ll be good to see the cousins,” said Peter, removing the leaf. “I’ll put it in the laundry room, because we’ll need it again tomorrow.” He carried it through and then kissed her cheek as he passed. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

“Just for a little while,” said May with a smile.

It was starting to get dark and they bundled up. Christmas lights were lighting up the neighborhood and Kitty took Bobby and Peter’s arm. “It’s so pretty. I wish Hanukkah had decoration.”

“What about Hanukkah bushes?” asked Peter. 

Kitty laughed, “My family is quite religious. Y’know that Hanukkah isn’t in the Torah? The Maccabean Revolt and the oil lasting for eight days happened after it was written. It’s not that big of a holiday but it’s religious, not so much a party. My parents used to give me a little money and new PJs. School gives me way more stuff… But we don’t make as big of a deal about Purim as I feel we should. I send gifts home for Purim and my parents send me stuff. It’s not the same. It’s a big deal at home.” 

The little kids who liked Lucky were building a snowman and called, “Hi, Peter! Hi, Lucky!”

“Hey, guys, nice snowman,” said Peter.

“Thanks!” 

Lucky pulled on the leash and Peter said, “Whoa, guys, I think Lucky is ready to finally say hey.” Peter walked forward and said, “Let him sniff your hand before stroking him and gentle hands, please.” The kids all grinned and ripped off their gloves. “Not too fast, gentle hands.”

They did as asked and were petting him happily when a woman came out, “Can I help you?”

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Peter,” he said. 

“Lucky’s owner?” asked the woman. 

Peter smiled, “Lucky got brave enough to say hello.”

“He’s such a good dog,” said one of the little kids.

“He’s a lazy, sleepy, smelly nervous nelly,” said Peter. “He’s also the best boy in the world.” Lucky decided he was finished and looped around Peter, hiding behind his legs. “I think he’s done. But at least he said hi.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle!” said one of the kids.

“Heck yeah, merry Christmas,” said Peter. They continued on. Lucky took a massive dump and they headed home.

Hank was there and he smiled as they walked in. “Hey, merry Christmas.” There were lit candles everywhere, the way there always was for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. It was comforting and known and what the holidays were meant to be. There was a new poinsettia on the counter, probably brought by Hank.

Peter smiled, “Merry Christmas.”

“I brought a menorah,” said Hank. “It’s late in the evening but I think God is cool with you celebrating life.”

“May, do we have time before dinner to light the menorah?” asked Kitty. 

“Of course we do,” said May with a smile. 

They lit it on the counter by the back door. Kitty said the prayers. Once they were lit she said, “Sorry about being a little late.”

The table was set with linen and plates and lots of utensils. Hank seemed to maneuver Peter into sitting opposite May. Peter remembered telling Hank that he expected to hate the man who sat in Ben’s seat and Hank had made sure Peter was sitting in it. They ate for hours. It was all served, as May always did, on platters in the middle of the table. Crab cakes led to linguine with scallops which led to oyster chowder which led to salmon with dill which led to cold seafood salad which led to fried squid and shrimp scampi which led to delicious butterflied lobster tails. They laughed and talked and Peter could see Kitty relaxing more and more with every course.

“I honestly don’t know if I can eat any more,” said Bobby.

“There’s only cannoli left,” said May.

“I can manage a cannoli,” said Bobby. “Or, what’s the singular of cannoli?”

“Cannolo,” answered May.

“I can manage a cannolo,” said Bobby.

“How do you make cannoli?” asked Kitty.

“You go to Joe’s Pastry over in Jamaica a few days before an event and get their shells and filling separately to keep it crispy until you’re ready. Life is too short to fry your own cannoli shells. I made the tiramisu for tomorrow this morning while you guys were still asleep. April is bringing pecan pie and eggnog bread pudding.”

They enjoyed their cannoli and then Hank said, “We’re going to do the dishes. You and Peter have cooking and hosting to do tomorrow. The three of us will be in PJs and none of us have been tasked with cooking tomorrow. So let the three of us deal with this.”

They ended up cleaning together. Half the stuff could be put in the dishwasher. The work was finished in minutes and with friends it was fun. Before long they were gone, bidding each other merry Christmas and happy Hanukkah. Once they were gone, Peter said, “Hot chocolate and bed?”

“Yeah, because Santa needs to come.” 

He smiled as she said it. Nodding he said, “So exciting. I’ll make the chocolate.” 

“I will pick out the music in the living room,” said May.

Only moments after the kettle came to a boil, Peter heard sleigh bells. Once they stopped he called, “Wow, May, did you hear Santa just then?”

She came in looking surprised, “Really? I must have missed it. He must be zipping all over the city.” He poured the hot water over the powder. 

May did so much at Christmas and Peter was grateful for it. When he was little his parents and he went to May and Ben for the Feast of the Seven Fishes and then Ben and May would come to their house for Christmas Day. After his mom and dad died May and Ben had done it all: Christmas Eve, Santa, Christmas Day. Peter knew that May and Ben had wanted kids, but it was an awful lot to ask. They had done everything to keep Peter’s life normal. And now, without Ben, May was still doing her very best to keep their lives the same. 

In the living room, they drank their hot chocolate looking at the decorations and Peter said, “Thank you, May, for always keeping the house running.”

“What do you mean, Peter?”

“You’ve done so much. Not just this year and last. Always. Thank you for always making Christmas amazing. It’s always magic. And this year you threw a feast for my friends.”

She shrugged, “It was more fun than it usually is. It was nice not having Mom here. Sad not having April but we get her tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry I told her off last year. I should have held my tongue.”

“No, sweetie, you did exactly what I should have. She’s bullied me so much over the years that I just ignored her. You were brave and you stood up to a bully. I was very proud of you and I really am pleased she wasn’t here. It was much nicer to have no one but pleasant people at our table. It was fun. And Kitty was so excited about all the shellfish.” She stroked his hair. “I wanted four kids, Peter, and I got just one perfect one. The magic of Christmas when you’re an adult is seeing kids reacting to the magic. I love making it magical for you, it has never been a burden. Thank you for always being so good for me. I could not have pulled off the feast without you. And, sweetie, if you ever think that you’re too much, think about this: if it weren’t for you I would be all alone. My husband, who was my best friend since I was nineteen, died. My first real love was the great love of my life. We were together through thick and thin. And I didn’t think I was going to make it, not without him. But there was you, who needed someone too, who lost Ben too. You needed me and it kept me going. I had to get up in the morning because you needed me to get up in the morning. You keep me going and I love you.”

“I love you too, May.” 

“Good, now, why don’t you head up to bed because Santa can’t come until you’re asleep.”

He went upstairs and then waited for an hour, until he was sure May was asleep. He snuck downstairs and carefully didn’t look at his stocking. May and Ben has always hung up their stockings purely as decoration, saying that Santa didn’t visit adults. Peter’s was next to May’s, loaded up. Peter took hers down. He went to the kitchen and got a clementine to put in the heel. He had been paid by the MSF for his likeness rights and it was nice to have money in his pocket. He added a silk scarf, a scented candle, a pair of leather gloves, tan nail polish, a tiny bottle of Tabasco, mini travel umbrella, a book of Sudoku puzzles, a cherry Chapstick, a wooden spatula and a ton of chocolate. He hung it back up, pleased at being able to give May a stocking. Her present from him, an argyle sweater and silver earrings which Sue had approved of in the catalog, were wrapped and under the tree. 

He was trying to be silent but May called down the stairs, “Peter, you should be in bed.”

“Ho, ho, ho,” he called. In his deepest voice he said, “Go back to bed, little girl.”

She gave a half sigh and said, “Goodnight, Santa.” 

Peter went up the stairs crawling the wall to be silent. In his room, Lucky looked up at him sleepily and curled up next to him when Peter got into bed. Peter drifted off stroking Lucky’s fur. 

He woke up to May calling, “Peter, Merry Christmas. Santa came!” 

Lucky got excited as Peter jumped up, “Lucky, it’s Christmas!” Peter jumped out of bed and tore down the stairs. “Merry Christmas!” He called as he went. Reaching the living room he asked, “Santa came?”

“It’s weird, he came while I was awake to drop off your presents. He looked good. But I guess he came back. I heard him down here and he left me a stocking.” 

“Huh, I guess you were good this year,” said Peter. 

“Peter,” she said. 

“What? I had nothing to do with it; it was Santa. I have to pee before we open stockings.”

“I’ll make us hot drinks and put food in Lucky’s bowl. Brush your teeth. I can smell your breath from here.”

“The amount of garlic I ate last night means one round with the toothbrush wasn’t good enough.”

Once they were both settled they opened their stockings together. Peter’s was filled with candy, little toys, cozy socks, new books. May exclaimed over everything and said, “Wow, Santa’s always listening: he’s heard me whining about the fact that I need a wooden spatula and keep forgetting to buy one at the supermarket. And I am always forgetting my heavy umbrella, losing my Chapstick and so many restaurants don’t have hot sauce. He covered all of my biggest pain points. Then fun Sudoku puzzles, a ton of chocolate and a scented candle: that’s a good Friday night. Top it off with a pretty nail polish, a gorgeous scarf and lovely leather gloves? I think this is honestly — no joke, no puffery — the best stocking I have ever received. I mean, maybe I got something good as a kid but I don’t remember. This is the best ever.”

Peter smiled at her, “I love mine too,” he put on his new fuzzy socks. “Santa knows how much I hate being cold. I got my Christmas present from you: my totally awesome room and closet makeover. But, you need to open yours from me.” He retrieved her present from under the tree.

“Peter, I think the stocking was more than enough. Those are really nice gloves and a gorgeous scarf.”

“Those were from Santa,” said Peter, depositing the packages in her lap. “These two are from me.” 

She smiled and opened the sweater, “Oh my goodness, that’s lovely.” She stroked it and said, “It’s like petting a rabbit.” Then she opened the earrings and said, “Peter; they’re gorgeous. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I have MSF money, Charles set up the tax stuff, now it’s mine. I can spend it as I like. You won’t let me knock out the wall. I wanted to buy you a nice Christmas present. I wanted to do this. Merry Christmas.”

“I love them. I love my whole haul. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So I was thinking, we always dress nicely for the feast and then slob out of Christmas day. Granma Jean isn’t coming. We like April and David. Can I please rock my Spidey onesie and new socks all day?”

“Of course you can,” said May, “I’m calling April in a second anyway, I’ll tell her about our Christmas traditions and they can dress as they like.”

He grinned and then Lucky came and Peter said, “Lucky, you get gifts too.” 

“I cannot believe you wrapped the dog’s gifts… I can’t believe we bought the dog gifts,” said May, laughing. 

Peter got Lucky’s gifts and sat on the floor. Lucky tried to sit in his lap and Peter laughed, “No, Luck, sit.” Lucky sat and thumped his tail, happy at having Peter on his level. He held out one package and said, “This is to remind you where you came from.” 

May laughed, “A meaningful gift no less.”

He opened it and showed Lucky his new purple collar. It was covered in Hawkeye’s symbol. “Clint sure does love you and you’ll always be his dog just like your ours.” He swapped the collar out for his old one, the new one had a nicer nameplate that said, “My name is Lucky, I’m very nervous around strangers. Please call my people, the Parkers.” It had their number and address on it. “You look so handsome.” He held up the next gift and squished it, making it squeak. Lucky looked instantly alert and thumped his tail, in anticipation. “What’s that?” asked Peter. He squeaked it again. “Is that what you think it is? Let’s find out.” He tore off the paper, “It’s a squeaky pizza slice!” He held it out and Lucky took it, making it squeak. “Wow, it works!” Taking one last box out he said, “Now this one is kind of a gift for May and me.” Lucky looked at the box in anticipation, having gotten the point of the game. Peter tore off the paper and revealed a box of Greenies dental treats, a hard green chew that cleaned a dog’s teeth as he ate it. Maybe it would fix his breath. Peter opened the box and held out one. Lucky sniffed it and immediately dropped his squeaky toy to take the treat. Peter kissed his head. “So handsome. Merry Christmas, Lucky.” Peter stood and Lucky jumped to put his paws on Peter’s shoulder and nuzzle his face. “I love you, Lucky.”

Lucky went over to May and nuzzled her too. “You’re so good at saying thank you,” she said, petting him, “such a good boy, Lucky.” The phone rang and May said, “That’s April, you’ll like her, Lucky.” 

She went to get the phone and Peter said, “Lucky, I’m going to put on my long johns and I’ll take you for a walk.” Looking around at the soft sweater and chewy gloves he said, “Come upstairs so you don’t destroy May’s gifts.” 

He changed his underwear and put on his onesie with his comfy socks underneath. By the time he went down, May was wearing her new sweater with her PJs still on. “I have to take it off when I cook but stroke my arm.” Peter did as told and smiled at her. “So soft.”

“I’m glad you like it,” said Peter.

“April et al. are coming in an hour.”

“Okay, I’ll take Luck for a walk,” Peter kissed her cheek. He put on his sneakers and Lucky stepped on his foot and then jumped up to nuzzle Peter. Peter knelt to put on Lucky’s booties. “We’re going to go for a walk, you and me.” He kissed the top of Lucky’s head and put on the cape. “Come on, buddy.”

May came and thrust a thermos at him, “Cocoa.”

He took it, “Thank you.” At the sidewalk, Lucky picked their direction and headed off with a purpose. He came to a resolute stop on a step and Peter laughed, “Okay.” He pressed the buzzer for apartment nine. 

“Hello?” asked MJ. 

“Hey, Lucky wanted to say hi. Want to come for a walk?”

“Christmas Day, tiger,” she said.

“Right, sorry. Just say hi to Lucky, loudly, and he’ll get the message and get off your stoop.”

There was a pause and then she said, “You’re not allowed to laugh. Okay?”

“I’m not going to laugh.”

She sighed, “I can put on a coat and come walk, but you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“I’m in electric long johns and a Spider-Man onesie. I promise I won’t laugh.” A few moments later, she came down in boots, jeans, a winter coat and sticky gift bows stuck to her hair he smiled, “Hey.” Lucky crouched to spring and Peter said, “No, Lucky, don’t jump.” Lucky whined and MJ bent down to stroke him. “He came right here.”

She straightened, “Merry Christmas.”

“He’ll probably move along now,” said Peter. “If you want to go back up.”

“You’re not going to ask me about the bows?” she asked.

Peter shrugged, “It’s Christmas, we all have traditions on Christmas.”

“We have this thing. Gayle and I put all the bows in our hair and whoever has the most still on after dinner wins ten bucks from Dad.”

“Gayle is here?” asked Peter, “when’d she get here?” 

“Before dinner last night,” MJ shrugged, “Mom and Dad are carefully not saying that they think London isn’t good for her. She’s carefully not calling our world little. She thinks it’s cool that I’m working for Sue. She thinks I’m cool. I think it’s less cool that her eyes are glassy and she keeps sniffing. I think it’s pretty cool that Mom and Dad haven’t called her out on the fact that she’s clearly coked out of her skull. Let’s go for a walk.”

They walked together, and Peter offered the thermos to her, “Cocoa?”

“Yes please,” MJ unscrewed the cap, “How was your feast?”

“Pretty great. It was nice not to have Granma Jean there,” said Peter. “How are you holding up?”

“She flies back to London the day after tomorrow,” MJ shrugged. “You wanted help with Shakespeare, right?”

“Y’wanna come over tomorrow?” asked Peter. 

“Yes please,” she took a sip of the hot cocoa. “That’s nice.”

“Can you think of a way to ditch your family’s dinner and come to mine?” asked Peter.

“No, I’m not going to make Mom and Dad deal with Gayle alone,” said MJ. “My mom and dad, they fight but… our world isn’t little but sometimes I can see she makes them doubt it. Our world isn’t little; I like that I’m wearing sticky bows in my hair.”

“They look pretty,” said Peter. She rolled her eyes. “What? I mean it.”

“You’re exceptionally brave, Peter,” she said, “like, braver than you should be.”

“Thank you,” said Peter slowly, not knowing if it was a compliment. 

“But other times you’re kind of a coward.”

“What?” asked Peter. She smiled and ruefully shook her head. “Woah, you’re gonna knock one of the bows loose.”

“How long have you had a crush on me?”

Peter felt his brain stutter, “What?” asked Peter.

“How long have you been harboring an affection?”

“Face or personality?” he asked.

“Be brave, Peter,” she said. “Be really brave.”

“See, here’s the thing, I spoke about this with my cop buddies. If I screw this up, I could really screw it up. All of our friends are the same. We’re friends. I don’t want to screw it up.”

She smiled, “Well, I am going to break your heart and leave you in my dust. But you’ll suck it up because we’re friends.”

“What if I break your heart?” asked Peter.

“Oh, tiger, c’mon,” she smiled, “let’s get serious.”

He laughed, “Hey, you never know.”

“You told your cop buddies about me?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” he shrugged. 

“Be brave, Peter.”

“Aren’t you against gender roles and actually the whole concept of gender as a binary?” he asked. “Why am I the one who has to be brave and ask the question?”

“I am against gender roles,” she agreed, “But, still: be brave.”

“There’s a midnight showing of that musical about organ theft that you like. Y’wanna go with me? As a date. We could go get pizza at that place you like where the hipster thirty-year-olds try to impress each other by out pontificating each other. With really good buffalo chicken pizza.”

“Sounds like a great date,” said MJ. “One problem.”

“Your mom isn’t going to let you go with me with a Midnight Movie?” asked Peter.

“Probably not,” she agreed. 

They shared the hot cocoa between them and, when they reached MJ’s building, Peter pressed the buzzer for her apartment her mom answered saying, “Shell, did you forget your key, hon?”

“Actually, it’s Peter, Mrs. Jones. May I please take MJ out for pizza and a Midnight Movie on the twenty-eighth?”

There was a long pause and then she said, “How are you getting back?”

“Uber,” he said, “it’s a safe area but, late at night, it’s better to get a ride.”

There was another long pause and she said, “Okay.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Peter. Shelly, come up and set the table, please.”

“Just a sec, Mom, promise,” said MJ. 

Peter released the button and smiled at her. “So tomorrow, Shakespeare and then dinner and a movie on the twenty-eighth.”

She nodded, “Merry Christmas, Peter.” 

He considered his options. She had told him to be brave and so he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “Merry Christmas, MJ.”

She smiled at him, “Merry Christmas.” She repeated. “Merry Christmas, Lucky.”

She headed to the door and opened it and he said, “Hey, MJ?” she turned back to him, “I like the bows and I hope you win the ten bucks.”

She laughed as she headed inside. 

He walked home fast as he walked in May came into the hall and said, “Peter, I got concerned. Lucky is usually not okay with long walks.”

Peter knelt to remove Lucky’s booties and cape. “We picked up MJ, and she told me to be brave so I asked her out and she said yes. And then I kissed her on the cheek and she laughed but like in a good way. We’re going on a date, on the twenty-eighth. Pizza and a Midnight Movie. Her mom said okay. I’m going on a date with MJ. A date, May, freaking out.” He straightened up. “Freaking out.”

“Don’t freak out,” said May. “Did you suggest the pizza and a movie?”

“Yeah, it’s totally cliché, but it’s that musical about organ theft that she likes. They do it as a Midnight Movie with a shadow cast. It’s like Rocky Horror but with more blood. I know that she wanted to see it while it was back in the theater.”

“Good boy,” said May. Lucky perked up. “Yes, you’re a good boy too, Lucky.”

“What do we need to get done before everyone gets here?”

“Can you go upstairs and hide any unreleased action figures and your organs? Your cousins might want to hang out upstairs. Your room could just be a fan’s but the organs and unreleased merch give you away. And put your desk chair under your hammock to make it seem like you’re climbing up there.”

“Did you just say merch?” asked Peter. 

“Yep, you proud?”

“Very,” said Peter. He gathered up his stocking gifts and went up. Lucky came up and when he saw Peter was taking things off the shelf he tried to help. Peter loved his dog but he didn’t want his action figures in Lucky’s mouth. Holding out his hand, he said, “Drop it.” Lucky did and Peter was glad to see it was a Mr. Fantastic that was wholly hard plastic with no points of articulation and didn’t have any crannies for Lucky’s spit to get into. He put everything to a shoebox and put them in his closet. He crawled up his wall and got the organs off the shelf. He arranged his action figure that were on the market. A lot had hit the stores before Christmas. He spread them out so they filled the shelves. He hid the photos of him as Spider-Man but kept out the ones of his friends. Downstairs he said, “I got action figures for Christmas.”

“You didn’t get that onesie?” asked May.

“It looks like it’s more than a few hours old,” Peter pointed out.

“Good point,” she agreed. The doorbell rang and she kissed his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Pete.”

Peter smiled, “Merry Christmas, May. I’ll get the door.” 

They ended up having fun with their family. Peter had always liked his cousins, in part because April had always acted like they really were his cousins. They ate cinnamon buns while opening gifts. He took Lucky for a walk with his cousins and they talked about school and life away from the adults. They helped a little in the kitchen and dinner was delicious. They left just after midnight. It was good to see them but it was also great they left because Peter was ready for fourths and he knew he couldn’t eat a fourth dinner without his family thinking he was weird. 

It was good to be back. 

The next morning MJ came over with her copies of Shakespeare as Peter showed her into the living room and May smiled, “How was your Christmas?”

“My sister is a cokehead. My parents are considering an intervention. The highlights of yesterday included Peter and Lucky picking me up, a delicious turkey and my sister throwing corn muffins at my father while my dad said he loved her and would like her to come home more often. For some reason that made her really angry.”

“Would you like a slice of eggnog bread pudding or pecan pie? My sister’s family was going to see her in-laws today and we got to keep all the leftovers.”

“I would love a slice of eggnog bread pudding,” said MJ.

“May, you sit still, you’ve been doing a ton of entertaining,” said Peter.

May smiled, “Thank you.” 

They spent the day talking about Shakespeare, listening to music and eating leftovers. MJ said, “I don’t want to go home.”

“So just hang out here,” suggested Peter.

“I’ve left Mom and Dad for seven hours. They shouldn’t have to deal with her all by themselves.”

“You sure? We’re having yummy leftovers and no one is going to throw any cornbread at anyone.”

She smiled, “No, I should go.”

Nodding Peter said, “I will walk you home.”

“Thanks,” she said, “otherwise I might get lost.”

“It’s dark and icy,” said Peter.

“So you’re going to be manly and give me your arm?” she asked, teasingly.

“I’m going to be Spider-Man and catch you before your butt hits the sidewalk with radiation-enhanced reflexes.”

She nodded, “That’s actually very thoughtful.”

May was in the living room, having not moved much that day. She’d hosted guests for days and Peter understood why she needed a break. “I’m going to walk MJ home.” Lucky got off his bed and Peter said, “Luck, it’s cold and you’ve been on multiple walks. Go back to dozing.” Lucky did as told.

“Good luck with your sister, MJ,” said May.

“She’s leaving soon,” MJ said. They headed out and it was cold. MJ shivered despite being in a heavy coat. He took off his scarf and put it around her. She smiled at him and he took off one gloves and handed it to her. Then he took her bare hand in his and slid them both into his coat pocket. “Y’know, considering you were scared to ask me out, that’s pretty darn romantic.”

“It’s about sixty percent practical,” he said. “Your coat has misogynistic girl pockets and my pockets aren’t that warm. So gloves and a little bit of shared heat are scientifically better.” She chuckled and he said, “Thank you for helping me with my Shakespeare.”

“It was a fun day; thank you for giving me a valid reason to bail.”

“I’m sorry Gayle’s a mess,” said Peter.

MJ was silent for a few moments and said, “Gayle is a really great person. She had a hard year a few years back, got a bad dance injury. She gained some weight and found a way to get the weight off and get back on stage then her friends in London talked her into not doing uppers… she’s a really great person… but she definitely fell off the wagon and she’s not a great person on drugs.”

“Do you want to go to Starbucks?” asked Peter, pointing to the Starbucks on their left.

She nodded, “Good idea.” They ducked inside and, at the counter, MJ ordered a decaf Americano with milk and Peter ordered a peppermint hot chocolate. He paid for them before she could find her wallet. They sat down at a corner table and MJ said, “I’m being cowardly.”

“No, you’re stopping for warm treat on your way home,” corrected Peter. His phone rang with the Skype noise and Peter said, “That’s Shuri.”

“What time is it in Wakanda?” said MJ looking at her watch. 

“You know how you get stuck into a project. Imagine if you had a lab in your apartment.”

“Answer, say hey for me.” 

Peter answered saying, “MJ says hey.”

“Oh, hey,” said Shuri smiling. “Where are you?” 

“Starbucks,” said Peter.

“I want to go there when I am in America. I came, for two hours once, but I want to go when I come to New York.”

“When are you coming?” asked Peter. 

“The third week of January,” she said with excitement. 

Peter smiled, “Awesome, can we hang out in the flesh?”

“Absolutely,” she grinned. 

MJ turned Peter’s phone toward herself, “Are you opening one of those Wakandan Outreach Centers here?”

“My brother’s aim to open our hearts and not our borders?” said Shuri with a smile. “It’s in Harlem.” 

“How long will you be here?” asked Peter. 

She shrugged, “Two weeks, but — sadly — most of it I’ll be working or doing diplomat stuff.”

“Can we visit the center?” asked MJ.

“Yes, as my personal guests, Ned and Johnny too.”

Peter grinned, “So cool.”

“I hope I get some time to just see the city and eat American food. I want to try meatloaf.”

Peter laughed, “I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”

“I’m going to go; I just wanted to let you know. I’m coming to New York!”

“I’m really excited for you,” said Peter. They disconnected and said, “That’ll be fun. We can all hangout. I wonder how many bodyguards she’ll have. May will gladly make her meatloaf but if she has a giant entourage, that’s out. So, do you and Gayle have anything planned before she goes?”

“No, nothing, usually we go to MOMA, but… we haven’t made a plan or anything.”

“I’m sorry,” said Peter.

“You got anything tomorrow?” she asked.

“Sleep. And panic because I have a date with a girl I really like the next day.”

“You know you paid for the coffee and that kinda makes this a date, right?”

“Oh,” said Peter. “How is it going so far?”

She laughed, “You are such a dork.”

“Yeah, but in a good way,” agreed Peter. She laughed. They finished their drinks and he said, “Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more.”

“We’re going to turn you into a Shakespeare scholar yet,” she said. They headed out, each putting on a glove and Peter took MJ’s hand and brought it into his pocket. They walked in comfortable silence and, on her stoop, she took off his scarf and put it around his neck, “Thank you.” 

“Any time,” She took off his glove and held it out and he kissed her cheek. “Good night, MJ.”

“Night, tiger.”

He walked down her stoop and turned back as she was unlocking the door, “Hey, you left a Hershey Kiss in my locker on the first day of school.”

She nodded, “Yeah.” 

“Did you leave one for Ned?”

“Nope,” she shook her head with a small smile. 

He smiled, “I’ll see you soon.”

He jogged home, staying warm. Inside May said, “Have fun?”

“Stopped at Starbucks because MJ didn’t want to go home.”

May sighed, “Don’t do drugs, Peter.”

“I think my girlfriend would dump me.”

“MJ’s your girlfriend now?”

“She says that as I paid for Starbucks it was a date.”

“How’d it go?”

“She laughed at me when I asked that question, so… pretty well, I think. She likes that I’m a dork. I think she likes being the cool one. Which is good, because I can’t be the cool one even if I tried. I’m a superhero but still not the cool one. I’m just not that guy. And I’m fine being not that guy.”

“That’s good, because you’re never gonna be that guy.”

Peter laughed, “Wow, thanks, May.”

They hung out and ate more leftovers. And at ten Peter said, “I’m gonna crash out. I’m gonna spider tomorrow and I’m gonna start around six AM because pre-daylight hours are a problem time.”

She smiled, “I won’t be awake.” 

“You want me to turn on the coffee pot before I go?”

“Sweet of you, but no. I’m going to have a lie-in. Call if you need me, okay?”

“Sure, promise,” he kissed her cheek. “Lucky probably won’t let me walk him that early.”

“I’ve got him, don’t worry. He is my dog too, mister, you only get eighty percent ownership.”

Peter smiled, “Okay.” He stood and said, “Lucky, bedtime.” Lucky stood from his bed, stretched, yawned and shook before following Peter to the stairs.

“Night, honey,” said May. 

Peter said, “Night, May.” In bed, Lucky curled up to Peter, putting his head under Peter’s chin. 

He woke up to the noise of his alarm and quickly turned it off. Lucky made a whine, “Go back to sleep.” Peter went to the bathroom, getting ready for the morning fast. 

He put on his long johns and light clothes that were warm but thin. He wanted his backpack to be nice and light but not stand out before he got a chance to change. In the kitchen he ate two hash browns, and a slice of peanut butter bread. He filled his water bottle and put it and Pop Tarts into his backpack. He locked the door behind him and jogged to his alley, changing fast. He swung up and away, stopping on a roof he said, “Karen, let the cops know I’m out and about.” 

Watching the ground, he looked for people having troubles. The first thing he saw was a lady in scrubs, trying to juggle groceries and the keys to her building. He made sure she saw him as he swung down so that she wasn’t startled. “Morning, Spider-Man,” she smiled.

“Hi, would you like me to hold your groceries while you open the door?”

“That would be great. Yes please. I am so tired,” she handed off her groceries. 

“Are you a doctor?”

She nodded, “Over at Memorial and I pulled a double.” She opened the door and took her groceries. “Thank you.”

“Sleep well,” he said. He swung back up and went back to meandering around the borough, enjoying the feel of the breeze. He saw a bodega being robbed and swung down. He hit the gun with webbing and then the guy’s torso and binding his arms to his sides. “Are you okay, sir?” he asked the guy behind the counter. The man looked more shocked than anything else. “Call the police.” 

The guy did as asked says, “Spiderman just stopped a guy from robbing me; he’s all webbed up.” He gave the address and then looked at Peter. “Would you mind waiting with me?” he looked nervous. 

“Absolutely,” said Peter. “May I please buy a hot chocolate?”

“You can just have a hot chocolate,” said the guy. His hands shook as he filled a cup from a big carafe. 

“No, sir, you’re open for business. I’m not going to stop a guy from robbing you only to turn around and take something.” He pulled out his wallet, from his backpack and pulled out the three bucks. He got fifty cents change and put it in the tip jar. 

The webbed guy said, “Hey.”

“You have the right to remain silent, guy, I would take that right. I’m not a cop, you’re under civilian arrest but you should still be silent.” He was halfway through his hot chocolate and agreeing that the weather had been really cold when the cops came. He smiled, “Hi, Mary. Hi, Jay. Or, maybe, I don’t know — we’re on first names but should call you ‘officers’ on the clock?”

Mary smiled, “No, you’re good, Spidey. It’s good to have you back.”

“Great to be back.” He finished his hot chocolate and said to the guy, “Sir, if you’re okay with the police here, I will head out.” 

“Thanks, Spider-Man, I appreciate it.”

“Oh, no problem, that’s why I’m around. The hot chocolate was great. Do you have a trash can?” The guy took the cup. “Thanks.” 

He was up and off and in his ear Karen said, “Johnny’s up. He still owes you food for the bet you had about MJ being starstruck by Sue. He asked for a meeting spot so he can bring you a breakfast sandwich.”

“Awesome,” he rattled off an address and headed over. He got there a couple of minutes before Johnny. Johnny handed him a paper-wrapped sandwich and said, “Sausage, egg and cheese on a hard roll.” 

Peter unwrapped it saying, “I’ve been at this for hours. I’m starving.”

“What time did you start?” asked Johnny as he sat.

“I left the house at, like, five-fifty. I’ve been swinging ever since.”

“Dude, it’s gone nine.”

“Why is it still dark?” asked Peter.

“It’s just a gray day,” said Johnny. 

“I’m gonna take a break at ten, there’s little need for me in daylight. I’ll start up again at four. So guess what?”

“Chicken butt,” said Johnny.

Peter groaned, “Really, Johnny, really?”

“Sorry, what?”

“I’m going on a date tomorrow.”

“You finally asked?” Johnny laughed. 

Peter ducked his head. “She told me to ask.”

“You coward,” Johnny said, patting his back.

“Whatever: we have a date. Pizza and a Midnight Movie. It’s a musical about organ theft.”

“Oh, she’ll be into that,” said Johnny.

“I’m trying, man,” agreed Peter. “I think it’s gruesome and a little unsettling. But I’ll just cover my eyes and then she can enjoy making fun of me.”

“She’ll be into that too,” said Johnny. “So what have you done this morning?”

“Held a woman’s groceries while she unlocked the door to her building.”

“Apt and on-brand,” Johnny said. 

“And stopped a bodega robbery.”

“I bet that the woman and whoever was in the bodega were really pleased you were there.”

“Ice is right: you are adorably earnest.”

“I will push you off this building,” Johnny threatened.

“No you won’t,” said Peter. He popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth. “Good sandwich,” he said, while chewing.

“It’s one of my favorite bodegas,” said Johnny. “Mind if I join you on your patrol?”

“Sounds fun.”

They spent an hour and a half racing each other over the streets of Queens. They got waved down by a couple of groups of kids who just wanted to say hi while they were playing in the snow. There was an attempted carjacking, Peter webbed the gun right out of his hands, mid-swing. And then webbed his ankles. Peter addressed the driver, “You okay, Sir?”

“Thank you, Spider-Man.”

“You’re welcome. Can you stay for the police?" 

“Of course,” said the man. 

The man looked gray and Peter said, “It’s always scary when someone is trying to make you a victim. But it’s over now. Now it’s just going to be boring. You’ll have to make a statement, you might have to stand up in court. It sucks but you have your car and you aren’t bleeding so now it’s just about the inconvenience. But, I mean, if you live in Queens, you’re used to inconvenience because our subways are an afterthought while they pour money into Manhattan."

“That Flushing Line, man.”

“I know, right? They keep saying they’re going to fix it but then they keep hiking up the fee but don’t fix it.”

Erin and Alex pulled up in their cruiser and Erin said, “Hey, Spider-Man, Torch. What do we got?”

“Carjacker, gun, citizen in car who had gun in his face,” Peter pointed between the three.

“Succinct,” said Alex. “Torch, what are you doing here?”

“Nothing, I’m just hanging out with Spidey. This was not a two-hero job. I’m just here. I did nothing useful except call it in to you.”

Erin said, “Sir, how are you?”

“I’m okay. I think I might have, maybe, wet myself a little.”

He sounded horribly embarrassed and Peter said, “You had a gun in your face. That’s when your body goes into flight, fight or freeze. One of the first things your limbic system does is make everything more urgent, including the bladder. Scientists aren’t sure why, if it’s to make us be able to run faster, or that the smell might throw off predators. But you are far from the first person to pee themselves at gunpoint.”

“Spidey had to pee at gunpoint in front of twenty-one men,” said Johnny. 

“Dude,” said Peter. 

“Too soon?” asked Johnny, smile wide.

“A skosh too soon,” said Peter. But then he started to laugh. To Erin, he said, “Do you need anything from me?”

“First report. I have your number for follow up.” 

“Okay first report, I was swinging over the street one block up, going west to east. I saw the bad guy, I swung closer. I called ‘Hey, guy.’ He looked up, I webbed the gun out of his hand as I was swinging. Then I landed and webbed his feet, checked the driver was okay and was in the friendly calm down mode when you came.” 

“Ahh, the famous Spider-Man calm down mode,” Alex laughed. “What tangential topic did he get you talking about? Was it the cold or the Subway?”

The guy looked surprised, “Actually… it was the Subway.”

“It’s a ploy,” said Peter, sheepishly. “Emotions are high so vent them at the transit system before you punch the guy who just tried to steal from you. It distracts you from this anger and gets you talking about a banal anger that’s almost soothing. It works like a charm. I always pick some pain point — weather, the time of night, Subway — before the person has time to get over the shock of being the victim of an attempted crime. I can always find something that’s vaguely irritating to chat about. New Yorkers, man: joy doesn’t soothe us, but irritation does.”

“It was soothing to bitch about the Flushing Line,” said the guy. “It felt normal.”

Peter made a clicking noise with his mouth as he gave the guy a double thumbs up. “Anything to make the process smoother.” 

“Okay, you can go, Spidey. Say, is there a way to take the webbing off people?” asked Erin.

“It dries up in a couple of hours,” said Peter.

“Yes, but when you web someone’s ankles together, we have to lift them into the cruiser.”

Peter said, “I will figure out a solution to that, no one has ever asked. Thank you for telling me. I can’t fix a problem when I don’t know it’s there. I’ll figure out a solution. Probably have to wait until school is back in session. I need lab access and a quiet place to think.”

“Do you make your web fluid in school?” asked Alex. “Are you making your tech in a high school lab?”

“Sometimes, or in shop class or in my bedroom. I usta make a lot of stuff in Tony Stark’s lab. Now, I make it in my kitchen, or I sometimes use Reed Richards’ but I’m a busy guy. I’ll figure it out; just gotta let me stew on it… I might have to synthesize a new metal. Which I need Reed’s lab for.” He shrugged. To Johnny, he said, “Y’want a hot drink and a pastry?”

“Can you deal with the smell of a Starbucks?”

“Yeah, just don’t put coffee under my nose. Bye, guys,” he tried to put the smile into his voice.

“Bye, Spidey. Bye, Torch,” said Erin. 

Peter swung up and Johnny flew next to him. 

“Oh! SAT cramming and metal research sleepover?” asked Johnny.

“Yes,” agreed Peter, emphatically. “But I’m kinda shook that you suggested it. You are making a study party request?”

“I study,” said Johnny defensively, looping around him.

Peter nodded, “I know. I’ve spent hours studying with you. You hate it.”

“Yeah, but I want to get into ESU based on grades not celebrity.”

“Cool, study sleepover. I’m excited.” 

Peter went home and vegged out for the rest of the day, cuddling with Lucky and watching a marathon of West Wing with multiple rounds of mozzarella sticks and leftovers. May joined him on and off. He napped a little and at five he said, “Y’want pizza? We’re kind of low on leftovers. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for eating food in the kitchen intended to be eaten,” said May with a smile. “I would rather have Chinese food than pizza.”

“Deal, but would you order it, please? Because I’m right between a Millennial and a Gen Z and, either way, I don’t like phones.”

“You want moo shu chicken?”

“And shrimp toast and chicken and broccoli, please.” May ordered the food and they watched another episode. The doorbell rang and Peter said, “I got it.”

“Purse is on the stairs,” said May.

“No, it’s my treat,” Peter said over his shoulder. He opened the door and smiled at the guy. “Hey, man, thank you for coming. How much?” He gave the guy a big tip because it was freezing and said to May, “Want to eat here or in the kitchen?”

“Kitchen: if only to get you off the couch,” she said with a laugh. He laughed. They ate and talked and May said, “I gotta go to work tomorrow.”

“I have a date tomorrow. Is that crazy or what?”

“It’s a little crazy,” she agreed.

“I kinda have a girlfriend,” said Peter.

“You kinda do,” agreed May.

“Do I dress differently?” asked Peter.

“For MJ, pizza and a Midnight Movie? No. Just be yourself.”

“Should I bring her flowers?”

“Unnecessary but also totally adorable and you should do it. Do you know her favorite type of flower?” He shook his head. “Buy her white Peruvian lilies. Romantic but not roses.”

After dinner he said, “I’m gonna head back out, okay?”

“Home by nine. I want to see you before I go to bed.”

He nodded, “Fair.” He helped load the dishwasher and stroked Lucky before going to grab his bag. He kissed May’s cheek and went out into the night. He had Karen tell the police he was back out on the street. 

Karen said, “There’s a car accident, four blocks over. No one is there yet. A bad traffic night.”

He swung over and was the first on scene. There was a guy stuck in his car, a two-door. Someone in an SUV had slammed into him, smashing him into a poll both doors were caved in. The airbag had deployed but was deflating. Peter leaned in and said, “Sir, are you okay?”

“I think I hit my head,” said the guy.

“Okay, the cops and paramedics are on their way. I want you to sit tight, okay? I don’t want to rip the door off in case I jiggle you. Do you feel like you’re gonna puke?”

“No,” the man said. 

“Good news, cars don’t really blow up after you crash it. That’s just in movies. So, sit tight. I’m going to go check on the other driver. I’m not leaving; you’re not alone,” He jogged over to the SUV. There was a sobbing teenager. “Slow, deep breaths,” he said, soothingly, “Listen to my breathing and match it.” She tried to mimic him. Peter saw the baby seat in the back seat. It faced the rear and he couldn’t see. “Is there a baby in the car?” She shook her head. “You sure?”

“My brother is at home with Mom and Dad. I just came out to get milk. I hit ice. I hit ice and I tried to break and I tried to steer into the skid, I tried to but-”

“Deep breath,” ordered Peter. “Deep breath.”

“Did I kill the man? Is he dead?”

“The other driver is alive. You, like, totaled his car. Your parents are going to freak but deep breathes.” He leaned toward the back seat, just to make sure. There was no baby.

“Can I get out? I need to see the other driver.”

“Don’t get out. You might have internal damage. So just sit still.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?”

“He’s talking; he seems okay. Y’want me to recheck?”

“Yes, please,” she nodded frantically. 

“Okay, slow, deep breathes,” he ordered. He jogged over to the other car and said, “Hey. The other driver is freaking out. She’s, like seventeen, she hit ice, skid and tried to correct it. She thinks she killed you, borderline hysterical. She wanted me to check on you.”

“It’s a kid?” asked the man.

“She went out to get milk; she’s just a kid who hit some ice and isn’t experienced enough to not crash after hitting ice. She wasn’t texting.”

“Tell her I’m okay and that it’s all going to be okay. Ask if she’s insured.”

Peter nodded, “Be right back.”

He went back and said, “He told me to tell you that he’s okay and that everything is going to be okay. He asked me to ask you if you’re insured.”

“Out the wazoo,” she replied. 

“Good, good,” said Peter. He jogged back to the guy and passed it on to him. 

The cops pulled up and Max said, “Spidey, there is a baby on board sticker.”

“Yes, but no baby,” he assured them. “I hate those stickers. They should be suction cups and it should be illegal to leave it in the car when there is no baby. But the driver didn’t need that lecture. Teen driver hit ice, braked, tried to turn into the skid and t-boned into the pretty car. Both drivers are alert and talking, no labored breath and no smell of blood. I’ve got good senses; I can usually smell blood and hear lung problems. She’s really sorry. I had them stay put because in Grey’s Anatomy people think they’re okay and then they move and it turns out they broke their spine and are paralyzed.”

“Good thinking,” said Max. “Ambulances are two minutes out.” 

“You tell the guy, I’ll tell the girl; I just calmed her down; she was kinda hysterical because she wrecked two cars.” He went to the girl and said, “Ambulance is two minutes out. It’s going to be okay.”

“Is the other driver mad?” she was still crying. “It’s good insurance.”

“He’s not mad, I told him that you’re young and that the car slipped on the ice and that you were really worried about him. You’re a teen driver and you weren’t on a phone. It was just an accident.”

“I could have killed him.”

“But you didn’t,” said Peter, “and you’re both insured. Just stay calm. Did you call your parents?”

“My phone is in my purse in the back seat.”

He handed her his flip phone, “Dial your house, I’ll do the talking, what’s your name?”

“Ashlin Grange,” said the girl. 

A woman picked up and he said, “Mrs. Grange? This is Spider-Man and everything is okay.”

“Spider-Man?”

“Ashlin was in a fender bender. She’s fine. Her phone is in her purse in the back seat. She hit some ice and t-boned a guy’s car but he is okay too. Everyone is okay. But the cars are pretty banged up. The police are here. The ambulances are about a minute out. I’ll put Ashlin on the phone. She’s crying but she’s okay.” 

He gave Ashlin the phone and she talked and sniffed and when the ambulance came she said, “The ambulance got here, Mom. I gotta give Spider-Man his phone. I’m sorry about the car.” 

Peter accepted the phone back and said, “Mrs. Grange, she’s shook up but she seems okay. I’m obviously not a doctor but she remembers hitting him, she’s speaking in full sentences.” The emergency workers came and started cutting her door open. Then he said, “I’ll find out what hospital she’s going to.” He took the phone away from his mouth and said, “Max, where are the rigs going?”

“Jamaica,” said Max.

Peter repeated the information. “What is that terrible noise?” asked Ashlin’s mom. 

“The emergency crew are cutting the door off your SUV. She did smoosh it up.”

“God,” The woman exhaled.

“Sorry, but she’s talking and remembers hitting the ice and the other car, which is a good sign. And at least your little boy wasn’t here. I saw the car seat and didn’t hear crying; terrifying. She’s okay; according to her, you’re insured out the wazoo.”

The woman gave a dry laugh, “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” agreed Peter. Max was coming over and Peter gestured at the phone and Max nodded, “Mrs. Grange, I’m going to hand my phone to a Sargent Max Barrette. He will tell you what the next steps are. This car isn’t drivable.” Covering the mouthpiece he said, “Mrs. Grange’s daughter is named Ashlin.” Max nodded and took the phone. 

He went to check on the other driver, they were prying the door open. “How are you doing, sir?” 

“I’m okay, Spider-Man. How’s the girl?” 

“She’s okay. You guys are going to Jamaica Medical Center. Maybe you’ll see her there.”

Max came over with his phone and said, “It’s almost nine, Spidey. I don’t want to be the cop who makes you break curfew. Deputy Chief Allan will have my ass if I’m the first guy who does it.”

Peter laughed, “Okay, I’m out.”

“Thanks for your help,” said Max.

“All I did was keep them calm,” protested Peter.

“That ain’t nothing. Go home to your mom.” 

Peter saluted and jogged off before getting to swing up into the air. He moved fast saying, “Karen, how much time until I’m late?”

“Nine minutes. I think Max was over-cautious.”

He swung into one of the alleys he liked and changed fast. He jogged home and made it in with three minutes to spare. “Hey, May, I’m home.” 

“Hey, honey,” she called. He kicked off his shoes at the front door and went to the living room where she was curled up with Lucky. “How was it?”

“Kinda dull. Car accident. No one was gushing blood, just trapped in squished cars. I kept them calm and together. Emergency workers got ‘em out. But I think I burned through a lot of my phone card because the driver who caused the crash had her phone in the back seat and she needed to talk to her mom ‘cause she was freaking out. I think I largely helped the greater good, but no one was saved by my being there. Could have been warm here with you.” He went to the couch and said, “What are we watching?”

“Just Meet Me in St. Louis.” 

He watched with her for a little while before going upstairs and looking through his closet and coming back with an armful of clothing. He held up the dark jeans and May nodded, pausing the movie. “Date clothes?” she asked and Peter just nodded. He held up option after option and May said, “This is MJ we’re talking about, right? A girl who has seen you in a onesie? Many times.”

“May,” he half whined, “I just… I really like her. And this is a date.”

“The wine red, ‘Stand Back: I’m going to try SCIENCE’ shirt and the pale gray hoodie. They make your eyes pop.”

“Thank you.” He watched the movie with her, stroking Lucky and relaxing with his head on her shoulder. Afterward, they both headed upstairs, Peter planning to go on an early patrol in the morning.

***

He actually saw May in the morning, she got up just to say, “hi,” her workday wasn’t going to being until ten. They ate cereal together and then she headed back to bed as he headed out the door. He patrolled for a few hours, stopping two muggings and what could have been a really bad single-car accident if he hadn’t grabbed the fender as exactly the right moment. The roads were too slippery. He saw one person who appeared to be trying to break into a car but he wasn’t trying to be covert and he seemed really tired. “What’s up?” Peter called down. 

“I locked myself out of my car and my cellphone is in there so I can’t call my mom to get my extra keys.” 

Peter said, “Cool, I want to help, but I don’t want to accidentally be a party to grand theft auto.” He pulled out his phone and said, “Call your mom.” 

The kid said, “I don’t know my mom’s cell but I know the landline.” He typed it in. “God, I hope Dad doesn’t pick up; he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Done this before?” guessed Peter.

“This is the third time.”

“Let’s keep our fingers crossed for your mom. What’s your name?”

“CJ Smith.”

A man picked up and said, grumpily, “Do you know what time it is?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Smith. This is Spider-Man. I’m with CJ.”

“Is he okay?” asked the man, suddenly completely calm and very awake.

“He’s fine; totally fine. He just locked himself out of his car and locked in his coat, gloves, cellphone and ID. I just wanted to be sure this was his car before I help him get back in.”

“It’s not his car: I’m the one who pays the damn insurance; I’m the name on the title.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry to call you so early, sir. Your son doesn’t have his coat but I just wanted to be sure it wasn’t grand theft auto. Most people don’t steal a car without a coat when it’s fourteen degrees: it makes ‘em stand out, but you just have to check.”

“Where are you? I can come to you,” said the man.

Peter said, “That’s not necessary. The cops have a handy dandy machine that can unlock cars built before 2005, this looks old enough.” The man was silent, it was a pregnant pause. Peter looked at CJ’s skin and dreads and said, “The cops in Queens believe that black lives matter, they do. They even have it written in the precincts. And I can’t imagine how scary it must be to not be safe calling the cops when you need help. But, if it makes you feel better, I’m a white kid the cops like and I’ll be standing next to CJ.” The man sighed, “We can wait for you if you like, sir, if you would prefer. I just want CJ to get his coat back soon.”

The man sighed, “Okay, call the cops.”

“Thank you, sir,” he hung up and said to CJ, “I have AI, she’s smart; she’ll find someone close by.” Then he said, “Karen, can you find out who is close and ask for help?”

“Sergeant Dennon is four blocks down. She’ll be there soon,” Karen said.

Peter repeated the info to CJ and said, “Sharron is nice.” She pulled up a few moments later and Peter said, “Hey, Sharron, CJ locked himself out. I spoke to his dad and have totally confirmed it is his car.”

“Ouch, no coat,” she said, grimacing at CJ’s sweater.

“No, my Spellodrome letterman’s jacket is in the car with my gloves.”

“Is that like Mathletics but for words?” asked Peter.

CJ nodded and when Sharron unlocked the car he leaned in to get it. It had his name on the breast. He shrugged into it and said, “So much better. Thank you. Thank you so much. Do you need to see my ID?”

“Well, your name is on your shirt, Spider-Man vouched for you and you dove for the jacket, not the smartphone. I have absolutely no reason to believe you are stealing this car. You have a good day.” She smiled and shook his hand. 

Once she was gone, Peter said, “Call your dad back. I tried to soothe his fears. But, a lot of cops don’t think black lives matter and a white teenage superhero isn’t actually going to ease his worries.”

CJ picked up his phone and his keys. He held the phone to his face and after a moment he said, “Hi, Dad, a sergeant unlocked my car, didn’t ask for ID and shook my hand… Yeah, I am just about to get in the car… I won’t text and drive, Dad. I know it’s icy, I will be careful. Okay, love you too.” He hung up and said, “Spider-Man, thank you.”

“It is super icy, I’ve already stop one accident this morning, so go slow.”

“Would it be too lame to hug you?”

“No, man, we have solved a big problem together: let’s hug it out.” They hugged and Peter said, “Get in your car where you can get warm.”

“Are you cold?” asked CJ. “Do you want to get in for a while?”

“Electric long johns; I’m fine, thanks.”

CJ got in and before closing the door, he said, “Thank you.”

“This is literally what I am here for,” said Peter. “Glad to help.”

He stopped another three car accidents before calling in and saying, “I have stopped four crashes. These roads need salt, badly.”

“We know,” said Annette. “Trucks should be out in the next twenty minutes, before the morning traffic.”

“Okay, I’ll keep stopping what I can but it sucks out here.”

“We know. Just do your best and be safe. Don’t get hit by a car,” she order.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

He stopped another three crashes and spent an hour helping people cross the street safely, making sure cars had totally stopped and then taking the arm of people who were having trouble staying upright.

The trucks came and Peter was exhausted and asked Karen to let people know he was done for the morning and told her to tell them he had a date that night. He went home, ate a sandwich and walked Lucky before crawling into bed, “You has sixty-one messages from people who wanted to wish you luck on your date,” said Karen. “Would you like to hear them?”

“Nah, Karen, that’s nice. But I’m good.”

He slept until it was time to walk Lucky and take a fast shower. He combed his hair and put on his clothes. Turning he said, “Lucky, how do I look?” Lucky jumped to put his paws on Peter’s shoulders and nuzzle his face. “I will take that as approval.” He grabbed his jacket as Lucky went back to the floor. “I am going out.” Lucky saluted him and he returned the gesture. 

He stopped at a flower store and said, “I would like to buy a bunch of white Peruvian lilies, please.”

“How many?” asked the woman behind the counter.

“Um, well, what’s the appropriate amount for the first date with the girl of your dreams when you want to show her you thought about her but don’t want to come off as cheesy or desperate?”

“Ten,” said the woman. 

“Ten, please.”

“Y’know, some girls find flowers on the first date lame. It’s old fashioned.”

Peter shrugged, “She already thinks I’m lame; best to lean into the skid.”

She wrapped the flowers and he was back out the door, moving fast through the cold. He hit the buzzer for her apartment and MJ said, “My dad wants to threaten you so come on up.” He got buzzed in and walked up the four flights of stairs. 

She opened the door, and he said, “Wow, you look really pretty.” She had four braids in her hair, close to her scalp, and makeup. 

“And therefore I have value?”

“No, I just meant,” he stuttered.

“I’m messing with you. You look pretty too.”

“Thanks, I combed my hair,” he said. Holding out the flowers he said, “These are for you.”

“Wow, Peter, wow,” she said, nodding her head slowly. She took them and said, “I’m going to put these in water, I guess, that’s what girls in the movies say. You are so lame.”

“Do you like bad boys?” he asked.

She smiled, immediately catching on to the meme, “Not really, no.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“These are beautiful. My dad is in his office. It’s totally absurd, outmoded and patronizing but, he wants to give you a talk.”

“Okay,” he said. He walked down the hall, having spent enough time in the apartment to know the way. The door was open but the man had his back turned to him so Peter knocked on the doorframe. 

The man spun on his wheely chair. He looked Peter up and down and said, “I have a forty-five and a shovel. I doubt anyone would miss you.”

Peter nodded, “The protective vibe; I dig.”

“I would be a lot more concerned about this date if you didn’t know that reference.”

“Clueless is a classic,” said Peter.

“You’ll get her home safe? It’s gonna be late.”

Peter nodded, “We’ll take an Uber.”

“And you’ll call us if anything happens and you need help?”

“Of course,” said Peter. The man got out his wallet and Peter laughed, “No, Mr. Jones, I’ve got everything covered. I’m good.”

“You sure? Midnight Movies aren’t cheap.”

“I have got this, don’t worry,” said Peter. “MJ and I are going to have a great time and she will come home safe and sound.”

“Okay, you guys have fun.”

“Thank you,” said Peter before heading back to the living room.

“How’d it go?” asked MJ.

“We quoted Clueless at each other. I think it was pretty much us speaking shibboleth,” said Peter, making her laugh.

“We’re going,” MJ called and her mother made dissenting noise. 

“Wait, pictures.”

“Mom, it’s a date, not Prom.”

“You styled your hair, when was the last time you styled your hair?”

“Are you shaming your daughter over natural hair?” asked MJ.

“No, I love your hair but I love seeing it in braids. Besides, I want a picture of your first date, for posterity.”

Peter smiled at MJ, “Come on, who are we kidding? We both live for the gram.”

She rolled her eyes but said, “Mom, you have to take good ones, so we can put it on the internet.” They ended up doing what amounted to a ten-minute photoshoot. Then MJ took her mom’s phone and started sending things to herself. Then she kissed her mom’s cheek. “Be back later.”

Outside he looked at her bare hands and smiled, handing her one of his gloves, “You want to get a cab or walk?” It had warmed up a lot during the day and was in the thirties.

“I want to walk and see the Christmas lights before people take them down,” she said as he took her bare hand in his and put them in his coat pocket. 

“So are you excited for a movie you’ve seen a dozen times?” he joked.

“I’ve never seen it with a shadow cast. I’ve never been to a Midnight Movie. I’ve seen movies the night before they came out, at early late-night screenings but I’ve never seen an actual Midnight Movie with callbacks and a shadow cast.”

“I gotta tell you, I kinda find this movie scary. So if I hide my eyes, try not to laugh too hard.”

“You know it’s a musical, right?” she asked.

“About organ theft,” replied Peter.

“Organ repossession,” she corrected, “It’s got the girl from Spy Kids, Paris Hilton and Giles from Buffy as the leads.”

“Yeah, and Giles uses a dead body as a ventriloquist puppet to sing a song.”

She laughed, “That’s hilarious.” She gestured at herself, “Face it, tiger, you hit the jackpot. These braids took me four and a half hours. You have to put up with my movie.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m just warning you: if I put my face in your neck, I’m not putting a move on you during your favorite movie; I’m just hiding from the gore.” They walked, pointing out decorations to each other and were chilled by the time they reached the pizza place. It was super hipster and trying way too hard. But they had good food. They got in line. “Usual?” asked Peter.

“Yeah,” she started to pull out her wallet. 

“It’s a date! First your dad tried to give me money now you. Put your wallet away. I got this.”

“Okay, I’m going to grab us a table by the window.” She kissed his cheek and handed him his glove. After placing the order at the counter, he brought their drinks to the table. She was looking at her phone and said, “I’m using some for a post, you can have these.”

His phone dinged and he said, “Thanks, I’m sure May would like the rest at some point.” He looked through and found one perfect one, not posed, of them smiling at each other, faces close, expressions open and posted it with the caption. “This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill.” 

He tagged MJ and she chuckled before posting her own, five pictures, all posed with the caption, “Going on a date with one of your best friends means that when your mom demands to take pictures you can turn it into a gram photo shoot with @MrPBParker.” He laughed and she said, “What’s May’s number? I’ll send her all of them.” She did just as their food came, and dropped her phone into her purse. “So Dad tried to give you money?”

“Yeah, his idea of a lecture is sort of skewed.” She laughed and he said, “I cannot believe we have to go back to school so soon.”

She groaned, “I know and we have to get prepped for regionals in, like, a month. Honestly, I have no idea how Liz held us together.”

“She read a coaching book,” said Peter. 

MJ thought and then said, “Yeah, I’m not doing that. I say we step up our afterschool work three days a week, but that screws with our internships.”

“Sue and Reed are so into our academic lives. They are not going to care, just talk to them.”

“Yeah, I will.” They talked easily about school and friends and were laughing. 

They finished dinner and started to walk over to the theater, again with her hand in his pocket. He bought them tickets at the window and inside, Peter said, “Big popcorn, too much butter?”

“Yep,” she agreed.

Everything was great. Right up until they walked into the auditorium and found seats, Peter immediately realized things were horribly wrong. “Y’know, with my mom so sick, I should call before the movie starts.”

She didn’t miss a beat just nodded, “Absolutely.”

He was careful to make sure the spider wasn’t visible as he pulled out the SpiderPhone. He hit the contact and Mathew answered on the first ring, “Hey, Spidey, what’s up?”

“Hey, Mom,” said Peter, voice huskier than usual.

“Wrong number, kid,” said Mathew but Peter continued.

“I know I’ve been really excited about this date. But you’re so sick and I wanted to check on you. We got to the theater. Repo: The Genetic Opera is about to begin. But, if you aren’t feeling well.”

“Get out of there, right now. Don’t call attention to yourself. Just get out.”

“Okay, we’ll come check on you. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too,” said Matthew, probably just out of reflex.

Peter closed the phone and MJ said, “She’s worse?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“No,” she shook her head. “Let’s go check on her.” 

He took her hand as they left and she went to ditch the popcorn and he said, “No, movie popcorn is the best; don’t waste it.”

Outside she said, “Do you want to get a refund?”

“No, it doesn’t matter.” They walked quickly and when they were four blocks away he said, “I am so sorry.”

“What just happened?” she asked. 

“Solidly twenty percent of the audience were cops. And they weren’t sitting together. It wasn’t a group discount. I called their boss. He said to get out quickly and without causing a scene.”

“You’re out fifty bucks,” she said.

“The cops will probably reimburse me for it,” said Peter. “I’m just bummed we couldn’t stay for your movie.”

“I’d rather not be arrested.” She popped some popcorn in her mouth and offered him the bag. 

He smiled, taking some popcorn, “You should call your parents. Your dad was very insistent we call if anything changed.”

She handed him the bag and took out her phone. “Dad doesn’t know who you are so he will ask more questions than Mom.” She put her phone to her ear and after a moment said, “Hi, Mom, we had to ditch the movie so we’ll probably go get dessert or something and be home earlier than expected… Peter saw that the theater was filled with cops, called a friend and was told to leave immediately. So we did… I don’t know. Pete was on the phone for less than a minute. Then we left and brought the popcorn with us. We didn’t stick around to find out why we were being warned to leave… it’s okay, we’ll do something else. I just wanted to let you know so that if the theater is on the news you know we aren’t there… okay, love you too.” 

They found a late-night gelato place and used popcorn as a topping, laughing and talking. Thirty minutes later, fifteen cops cars went screaming past in the direction of the movie theater. “So glad we left when we did,” said Peter. “Nothing should need that many cops.”

“Should you go?” she asked. “In your official capacity?”

“No. We’re on a date. Plus, Matthew didn’t say, ‘Get your date out and then help.’ He said, ‘Get out of there right now.’ If he wanted me there he would have said.” 

When they finished their ice cream Peter called an Uber. MJ smiled and said, “That seems a little absurd.”

“I promised your parents and now I’m going to have to make up ground.”

They got into the Uber and Peter smiled at the guy. They made idle conversation and, at the door, he asked MJ, “Should I come up?”

“You should say goodnight to me here and then come up and say goodnight to my parents.”

He put an arm around her waist and drew her in before kissing her. It was slow and exploratory and she smiled against his mouth. The kiss deepened and when they pulled apart she said, “Peter, I had a really great time tonight.”

“There’s a masquerade ball at the Mansion on New Year’s Eve. I have an outfit; I was planning on going solo. But, do you want to be my date?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

“Great,” he said. With his thumb he fixed her lipstick saying, “Your mom will kill me if you go up like that.”

She laughed and they headed upstairs. At the door she called, “I’m home. Peter’s with me.”

Her mom was in a dressing gown and said, “It’s all over the news. Apparently, the bit where people testify about how great surgery is had people in the aisles being handed bibles that were hollow and filled with bricks of heroin. They’ve been moving a hundred and fifty pounds of uncut heroin every night.” 

“Wow,” said Peter. “Wow.”

“Yeah, thank goodness you recognized the police,” said Mrs. Jones. 

“There was just a critical mass of cops not sitting together,” explained Peter. 

“I’m sorry about your movie,” said Mrs. Jones.

“We still had a great date,” said MJ. “Can I go with Peter to a ball on New Year’s Eve, please?”

“Where?” asked her mother.

“The X Mansion,” said Peter. “I assure you, it’s heavily chaperoned and May will be there, if you’re concerned.”

“You’ve clever kids: communication, consent and condoms, but also not on your second date, for Godsakes.”

Peter nodded, “That’s what May says too.”

Nodding, Mrs. Jones said, “I heard it from her first. We’ve been talking; I’ve been concerned. Always treat each other with respect and kindness. I can’t actually stop you from having sex but I can ask you to think long and hard and not rush anything.”

“Of course,” said Peter. “Of course. And, you’re right: it’s our second date.”

Her mom sighed, “Okay.”

MJ smiled and said to Peter, “I have a masquerade ball gown. It was my cousin’s prom theme last year. I was his date.”

“What color is it? I will match my cravat.”

“Royal blue,” she said.

“Great. See you tomorrow for breakfast with Ned?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be half an hour late so you can have boy-talk about our date.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek. “Night.”

“Night,” she agreed. 

Then he smiled at Mrs. Jones and said, “Goodnight.”

He walked home feeling chipper and he heard an alert on his phone. He saw a new Instagram post from MJ, a profile shot of him she must have taken at the pizzeria. She had drawn a protractor over his jaw. The caption said, “I like to make fun of @MrPBParker. But, honestly, that’s a jawline that could cut diamonds.” He laughed and slid the phone into his pocket. The lights were on in the house and he called from the front door, “I’m home.”

The news was on and May said, “Were you there?”

“No, saw a ton of cops in the audience. Called Matthew; he told us to leave. We were getting gelato by the time that went down.”

“Crazy,” said May. 

“Totally crazy. But it gives us a great story for the grandkids,” Peter collapsed on the couch. 

“So a Starbucks non-date, and she’s your girlfriend. A movie non-date and she’s your fiancée?” asked May.

“I love her; she is perfect. And it wasn’t a non-date it was a date without movie. She appreciated not getting arrested."

“Well, who wouldn’t?” she smiled.

He pulled out his burner and called Matthew. The man picked up saying, “You got clear, right?”

“We got clear,” agreed Peter.

“Thank goodness. What were you even doing there?”

“The girl I’ve had a crush on forever loves that movie and was really excited to see it with a shadow cast. We got good pizza, a big popcorn and I was killing it at having the perfect date. And then I realized I’m friends with a fifth of the audience.”

“Actually, it was about a quarter,” said Matthew, making Peter laugh. “Could you salvage it, at least?”

“We got gelato, used popcorn as a topping and watched your cars screaming their way to the theater. It was great. She’s coming to my New Year’s party as a date.”

“Excellent. Don’t do drugs, Spidey.”

“Believe me, Matthew: no interest in drugs.”

“How much were your tickets?”

“Fifty bucks down the drain,” said Peter. “Worth not getting caught in that.” 

“We will reimburse you,” said Matthew.

“Thanks. Can we just discuss the fact that while we were on the phone I pretended you were my mother and said, ‘I love you,’ and you — without an audience — said it back?”

“Yeah… I was kinda hoping you didn’t notice that,” said Matthew.

“I noticed.”

“I do love you, kid. You’re one of my favorites.”

“Aww, I love you too, Matthew. Now, I’m going to go put on my jammies.”

“Night, Spidey.”

“Night, Matthew.”

He hung up and yawned. “She’s coming to the ball?” asked May.

“She even has a dress,” agreed Peter. “Royal blue. Does Ben have a royal blue tie or a cravat? I had a white cravat but.”

“Yeah, sweetie, he had a tie to match every color dressed I owned. We can use one as a cravat with a clever knot.”

He realized he had used the present tense. “I miss him. I went on a date tonight and I can’t talk to him about it.”

“I know, honey. You went on a date and I couldn’t talk to him about you growing up. You are growing up and that’s really hard to watch without him here to talk about it.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna go put on my onesie,” he said making her laugh. “I’m not all grownup just quite yet.” 

When he met Ned the next morning he smiled, “MJ is gonna be late. She wanted to give us alone time.”

“Were you there when everyone got arrested?” asked Ned.

Peter told him about the night and finished by saying, “But MJ, being the coolest person we know, thought it was kinda funny and is going to be my date to the ball at the Mansion.”

“Dude, can I come?”

“It’s a date,” said Peter. “I love you, man, but no: you cannot come on our date.”

Ned pulled out his phone and scanned through the contacts, picking a name. After a moment he said, “Hey, Cat, is your life getting a little less hellish? “ He listened, asking questions and making comforting noises. “I’m really sorry… yeah, I was calling to ask if, maybe, I could be your date for the ball?... Yeah, awesome! Okay! What color is your dress?... I want to get you a corsage: it’s a ball… okay, great. And if you want to talk… yeah, okay. Have a great day.” He hung up and said, “I’m not coming on your date: I have a date.” 

Peter rolled his eyes and then MJ was sliding into the booth next to him, “Hey, losers, did you recap last night?”

“Yeah, and the Ned asked Cat if he can be her date for the ball,” said Peter, taking her coat and putting an arm around her shoulder.

MJ rolled her eyes and said, “Ned, you get that we’re going on a date, right? It’s a date.”

“I’m going on a date too. I have no interest in being your third wheel: I want to go to a ball and spend New Year’s with my friends. Johnny is going with Bobby, you guys are going, so I am going with Cat. I don’t want my mom to be the first person to kiss my cheek at midnight.”

“That’s totally fair,” said MJ. They ordered their usual and MJ said, “So what did you do last night, Ned?”

“Well, I was supposed to go into Manhattan but Johnny has a cold and said he didn’t want company because he wasn’t feeling clothes. So instead we signed into Fortnight and hung out.”

“When you first met and were being weird to each other. I told you that you would ended up playing video game without me,” Peter reminded him as their toast and drinks came.

They talked easily about friends and family. MJ filled Ned in on the mess with Gayle. He listened, open-mouthed. After breakfast MJ said, “Are we heading over to the Baxter Building?”

“I gotta go do my other hobby,” said Peter. “Talk to Sue and Reed about decathlon practice?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She kissed him gently, “Talk later?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He and Ned did a handshake they had worked on since middle school. He watched his friends leaving together. It made him smile. He headed out and changed in a nearby alley. He was off and into his day fast. He stopped two muggings and a bicycle theft before Karen told him to head over to Matthew’s office. He swung over and got hugs going in. 

The man himself smiled at him and handed him money, “Fifty bucks plus your stipend for January. Figured we won’t be seeing you New Year’s Day. How was Christmas?” They moved into his office and both sat on the couch.

“It was great, so much good food and family. My friends came over for Christmas Eve. Santa came; I heard the sleigh bells and everything. How was yours?”

“It was good. Santa visited my kids, my in-laws left pretty soon after the meal which was nice. Tons of tasty leftovers.”

“Not a fan of the in-laws?” asked Peter.

“Honestly? I’m a misanthrope; I don’t like guests.” Peter laughed. “How are your lungs?”

“Fighting fit,” said Peter.

“And how was your date? Was it your friend who you were afraid to ask out?”

“Yeah, she told me to be brave. So I asked her out and accidentally brought her to a drug raid. I don’t really get why she told me to ask her out in the first place. She’s so beyond me. She’s so cool, and so smart, and so funny, and so mature. And I’m just me.”

“You’re pretty mature. We all thought you were in your twenties. And invented your web fluid so you’re pretty smart. And I think your puns are great. As for cool, well, you can’t win them all. How is your friend Kitty Pryde doing?”

“That name has been neither confirmed nor denied by the Xavier School for Talented Youngsters. But, Shadowcat is… kind of a mess. We had a multiday sleepover to try to distract her. But, I mean, a U.S. Senator called her out on C-SPAN and then someone put a very private conversation on the internet. So far, six really bad laws have been voted down. But, she’s a mess.”

“I’m still trying to get to the bottom of it. It wasn’t a cop who posted it but I’m going through everyone who was there.”

“Matthew, I don’t think that will fix anything. The violation happened. I don’t think having a name will make her feel any better. I think you should find out where the weakness in your system is, because some information isn’t for public consumption. But it won’t undo what’s been done. It won’t stop her words being out there, it can’t undo her grandpa hearing here say the f-word, it won’t take her face off the internet. She planned to be and X-Man but she would have been twenty-two when her face would have been public. This was six years too soon. It was her fourth mission as a trainee. She’s a junior in high school. But, that video also outed me. Both my real-life friends’ moms watched saw me interacting with my friends and immediately saw me behind my mask. So, that’s a fun aspect of it all. You should find out who it was, but it can’t mend the damage. Anyway… you wanted me to come in?”

Matthew nodded, “Just for a chat. I haven’t seen you for a while. Back when I thought you were an adult, that was fine. Now that I know you’re a kid, I just wanted to touch base and see how you’re doing more often.”

“Oh, I’m good. I’m sad about Cat but my lungs are fine. My dream girl went on a date with me. Did Sharron Dennon talk to you about our meeting yesterday?”

“No, what happened?”

Peter told him about CJ and about Mr. Smith’s fear of the police. Peter said, “I’m very proud to live in Queens. I love our borough and our police. But, I gotta be honest, I’m scared of cops outside our borough. And, if you haven’t been into a police station in Queens you haven’t seen the big ‘black lives matter’ signs. Have you considered a press push saying that Queens cops aren’t going to shoot people for breathing while black? I know that it would cause friction with the other boroughs that shout that blue lives matter but, Matthew… a man didn’t want to call the cops when his seventeen-year-old was stranded without a coat in fourteen-degree weather.”

Matthew nodded, “I agree with you, one hundred percent. Which is why the Black Live Matter March in February has us as their main corporate sponsor. There will be big-ass branded signs that say that Queens’ cops believe that black lives matter. The march is in Manhattan; it’s going to make a statement. And what can the commissioner say when the highest-ranking cop in Queens signed off on the budget? He can’t fire me, but he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Wow, Matthew, thank you.”

“I’m not doing it for your lily-white ass, Spidey, I’m doing it for the CJs who should feel safe flagging down a cop when they’re freezing and stranded.”

Peter laughed, “Yeah. Cool. I should get back out there, unless there’s anything else you want to chat about.”

“Nah, go do the job I just paid you for.”

Peter chuckled and then looked at the money, “You said three hundred is the max you can take out of petty cash for this, right?”

“Yeah,” said Matthew. “Why? Do you need an advance or something?”

“No, it’s just… you handed me three-fifty to reimburse me for the movie tickets. Where did the fifty come from?” Matthew said nothing and Peter said, “For goodness sakes, did you just pull it out of your wallet? You don’t have to pay for my tickets.” He tried to hand the cash back but Matthew closed his hand over Peter’s.

“Keep it and spend it on your girl. Keep it. My treat.”

“I have money. I sold my name to the Maria Stark Foundation. And pretty soon I will have toy royalties.”

“Cool, that’s great. Don’t stop you from being out fifty bucks. Keep it. Honestly, I’m sorry I busted your perfect first date. Keep it.”

Peter sighed, “Thank you, Matthew.”

“Love you, Spidey.”

“Love you too, Mom,” said Peter, giving him a salute as he left the office. In the bullpen, he said, “Did you guys like the movie last night?”

“Weird and creepy,” called McNally.

“Right?” agreed Peter. He left with a wave and swung out over Queens, having fun. He was thinking about MJ and her dress when a thought struck him. He swung up to a roof and said, “Hey, Karen, would you mind calling Charles, please? I’m worried about my minutes on the SpiderPhone.”

“Of course, Peter.”

He heard the ring and then Charles picked up saying, “Are you alright, Spider-Man?”

“It’s a social call,” said Peter.

“Oh, good, but you are on patrol, are you not?”

“I am. I might have done something really stupid. And I can fix it, but I have to check to see how stupid it is.”

“Oh dear.”

“I’m finally dating the girl the guys have been making fun of me over.”

“I heard. Congratulations.”

Peter laughed, “Thanks. I asked her to come with me to the ball. And then my best friend was bummed that he couldn’t come. And he asked Shadowcat if he could be her date. And, I know that the Mansion is supposed to be a sanctuary for mutants. When I bring people to rehab, it’s different. And, maybe, I’m not supposed to invite Homo sapiens to parties. Parties aren’t about me like rehab is. I mean, my mom is coming but that is different. These are just my friends.”

He could hear the smile in Charles’ voice as he said, “You’re not threatening the sanctuary by bringing nice people here. This place is to protect the students from the cruelty of the world. It’s not isolation. When your best friend first met Warren, you were on a lot of drugs and I think you might have been napping. You know how friendly Warren is and he gets a little star-struck with big kids. And he thought that your best friend was a new student. And he asked him what his ability was and your friend said, ‘I’m not cool like you. I don’t have a superpower.’ And Warren was so thrilled. Here was a Homo sapien, and a big kid to boot, saying Warren — with his wings — wasn’t a freak but was, in fact, cooler than him. When you are stretching during rehab, your friends come into the kitchen and chat with whoever is there. They just talk: school, weather, movies. Two Homo sapiens with no flesh in the game come here and are perfectly nice conversationalists. You straddle the line. You, Bruce, the Fantastics have a different mutation and you aren’t technically Homo superior but you aren’t Homo sapiens either. Your mother is your mother, as you said: that’s different. Your friends are completely normal — they aren’t us and this isn’t their world — and they are very pleasant. They aren’t afraid of us and they don’t stare. Shadowcat has been having a hard time. First with Senator Kelly and then becoming the face of a movement without her consent. I heard her, earlier, on the stairs. She was talking to someone and said that your friend asked to be her date and is getting her a corsage. I know it’s just a friends date but… she is very aware that he is a Homo sapien and he asked to be her date and is buying a corsage. They are friends and she sees him as a person first and foremost but she’s aware that he’s a different species and he’s not afraid of her. She needed a win with week. A Homo sapien is buying her a corsage and that’s a win. Your friends are welcome here. It wasn’t stupid of you to think that they would be welcome. They know it’s a masquerade, right?”

“Yeah, they are aware.”

“Excellent, we take this party seriously. People have been sewing and searching through Etsy for weeks.”

Peter laughed, “Don’t worry, Charles, we will dress to impress.”

“Good, we’ll see you then.”

“Thanks, Charles, see you in a couple of days,” Then disconnected and Peter said, “Well that’s a relief.”

“Your friends are very nice, Peter,” said Karen.

“I know; I just wanted to be sure. I should have asked before asking MJ.”

“MJ is too pretty to think around,” said Karen.

“Exactly,” agreed Peter. He gave three groups of people directions, managed to grab a dog who had slipped her leash and bring her back to her owner. 

***

It was a quiet afternoon and he was considering calling it a day when he heard, “Spidey, you-hoo!” Wade jumped over a rooftop and landed next to peter on the ledge where he was sitting. “Long time no chill.” He smiled, his mask so beautifully responsive. Peter had had a mask like that; he’d burned it. “Are we still buddies or did Steve Rogers ruin it?”

“We’re still pals,” said Peter.

“Good, I brought burgers and fries.” He pulled a Five Guys bag from his crazy utility belt.

“Awesome,” said Peter, “I’m starving.”

Wade settled on the ledge and said, “Spidey, all those thirst posts? None of them were from me.”

“I know. I follow you on social.”

“I know I asked to touch your butt on three separate occasions but I never would have asked to touch your butt if I had known you were so young.”

Peter smiled, “Wade, you’re not a perv. I know you wouldn’t have asked. You wouldn’t have any interest in me.”

“I am interested. But I’m interested in if you’re ready for the SATs, not in seeing you naked.”

“Human Torch and I are going to have a study sleepover and prep. It’s only a practice run for me. It’s his real one.”

“With his name, he could get in anywhere,” said Wade. 

“He wants to get in on his grades,” said Peter. “It’s an honor thing.”

“You’re the most honorable person I know, Spidey.”

Peter smiled, “Thank you, Wade, that’s a really nice compliment.”

“Why haven’t you ever turned me in?”

Peter thought about it, chewing his burger. “How honest do you want me to be?” He licked ketchup from his lip.

“Honest,” said Wade.

“I think you should be held accountable for your actions. You’ve killed people. But let’s say I web you and drag you into the cops. Two hours later that webbing dries up and you kill your way out of the cop shop. And that blood, those lives, would be on me. I’m friends with the police. I don’t want them to die. And it would be my fault. It’s the obvious outcome, and if I ignore that, it’s on me. No prison will hold you if you aren’t willing to be held. So, instead, we eat together and I repeatedly tell you that you should turn yourself in.”

“I haven’t unalived anyone since we became friends,” Wade protested. “Even when you were missing. I didn’t unalive anyone.” 

Peter nodded and said, “And that’s really great progress. But, Wade, not murdering people doesn’t erase the fact that you have murdered a lot of people. If you turned yourself in, maybe the judge would let you do some sort of rehab thing with the X-Men. You want to be a hero; maybe doing work release with Charles and the gang could be your in. You’re immortal — even if the court gave you twenty to life, you’d be back out in forty years. You killed a lot of people. But they were all real bad guys. I bet you could get Logan to put in a good word for you. I will, but I’m a teenager who won’t put his face on record, so I don’t know how much weight I have.” He shrugged, “That’s why I don’t turn you in. We still friends?” 

“Still friends,” agreed Wade, with a bright smile. 

“Cool, do we have extra ketchup for fries?”

“Of course we do, Spidey, I know you love you some ketchup.” Wade pulled out another bag filled with nothing but sachets of ketchup. 

“Wow, you really get me. And you know how to do a welcome back meal.”

“So what’s new with you, squirt?” asked Wade, proving Johnny so right. 

“I got a girlfriend.”

“No shit?” asked Wade and Peter nodded. “Have you taken her out on any cool dates yet or are you just talking? Isn’t that what the kids call it now ‘talking’?”

“We’re being old fashioned and calling it dating.”

“You could be really old fashioned and call it courting,” said Wade, making Peter laugh.

“I accidentally took her to a drug raid at a movie.”

“Repo?” asked Wade. “I saw it two nights before: so good.”

“I saw who was in the audience and we bailed immediately,” said Peter.

“So sad you didn’t get to see it, Spidey. They added all sorts of good stuff. Like, giving out communion Red Bull while handing out the bibles of drugs. The girl who played Blind Mag was amazeballs.” 

“Maybe it will come back, without the drugs.”

“Don’t do drugs, Spidey, say nope to dope. Say crack is whack. Say okay to cocaine. No, wait, that had a good flow but a bad overall message.”

“I don’t do drugs unless they are handed to me by a doctor.”

“I don’t take the ones handed to me by them either.”

Peter sighed, “I think you probably should, dude.”

“Nah, it makes the boxes louder,” said Wade. “I feel tired and they get loud.”

Peter thought and said, “Y’know, as a mutant, maybe the drugs they give you are bad. What is your disorder, do you know?”

“Bipolar, paranoid schizophrenic with ADHD and PTSD. Plus, I seem to be the only one who know we live in comic books. And fanfic.”

Peter needed a second to think, “Good fanfic?”

“It’s a mixed bag,” said Wade.

“Have you ever talked to a super doctor? Like, Dr. Cho or Hank? Because maybe they could help you take good drugs. Maybe you could get the voices, or boxes, to be quieter and make you feel happier. You don’t need fixing, or anything, you’re awesome. But, maybe you could feel better in your own skin.”

“You really think Hank would talk to me?” asked Wade.

“I mean, we’ll only know if we ask.” He licked his fingers and said, “Why are Five Guys’ fries so much better than everyone else’s?”

“I think it’s the fat they use,” said Wade. 

Peter pulled out the SpiderPhone and said, “Y’want me to ask Hank?”

“What if my readers don’t like me normal?”

“What’s more important, you liking you or them liking you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Y’know, I love comics. And Dick Grayson, Robin, had to step up for Bruce Wayne as Batman when Bruce broke his back and then Dick became Nightwing who was a much darker, much more mature, more competent character. No one liked him any less.”

“Like character growth?” asked Wade.

“Exactly, dude. Maybe this is your story arc.” 

“Call Hank, my storyline’s been getting stale for a while,” said Wade.

Peter picked Hank out from his contacts and hit send. The man picked up on the second ring, “Hey, Spider-Man, y’okay?”

“A-okay. Wade and I are eating burgers, and talking about not doing drugs. And Wade says he doesn’t take the drugs doctors because they make stuff worse. And I was just wondering, do you think that maybe it’s because Wade has the X gene?”

“It’s very possible, our bodies are so different. Wade would need a lot of blood tests and a very patient doctor to find the right drug mix.”

“So, what you up to at the moment?” asked Peter, making Hank laugh.

“Oh, kid,” Hank sighed. “Hand over your phone.”

Peter held the phone out to Wade. Wade looked at it, apprehensively. “Do not yeet my phone, Wade.”

Wade took it and said, “Hey, Hank… yeah, I could do that… yeah… yeah… really?... cool. Okay, new year, new me… Okay, see you then.” 

He held out the phone to Peter and Peter asked both him and Hank, “Got a plan?”

“He’s coming to the Mansion for dinner on the first,” said Hank. He sighed, “If this goes badly… I’ll still be very pleased that you’re the kind of person that asks for help for his friends. See you at the party.”

“Bye,” said Peter as they hung up. “Neat.”

“Thanks, Spidey, for trying.”

“Yeah, man, of course. Maybe you’ll feel a little better. Maybe Hank can help or at least listen.”

“Maybe he can fix me,” said Wade.

Peter shook his head, “You don’t need fixing; it would just be nice if you felt better.” They finished all the fries and Peter said, “Y’want a hot chocolate or something from Starbucks?”

“Chocolate,” agreed Wade. 

“Want to race?”

“Yes, three blocks east and four south?” Wade nodded. 

“Yeah,” agreed Peter, pulling his mask down. Wade was doing crazy parkour over the rooftops and Peter swung fast. He beat Wade by a few seconds and said, “Winner buys the drinks to comfort the loser.”

“I like this new rule,” said Wade. “I feel very comforted.”

Inside they both got big hot chocolates and Peter was pleased because his hands were freezing from the chilled breeze but he saw Wade’s agitation and when he turned up his mask, to take a sip of his drink, a woman near them gasped. Wade quickly replaced his mask. Peter turned around to look at her. He couldn’t give her a withering look so he settled for shaking his head slowly with disappointment. Turning back to Wade he said, “Wanna go watch ducks fall off the ice and into the water like the stupid animals they are?”

“Aren’t you cold, Spidey?” asked Wade. “You usually suggest hot chocolate when the cold gets to you.”

Peter never liked to lie so he said, “Yeah, totally, but I have on electric long johns and twenty ounces of hot cocoa, I’ll be fine. Let’s go laugh at dumb birds.” Peter was behind Wade as they left and he turned to shake his head at the woman again. They walked over the park together and found a bench free of snow. There were geese walking about on the ice. “Canadian geese,” Peter pointed, “do you know any of them?”

“What ‘cause all Canadians know each other? C’mon, Spider-Man — oh, hey, Dave,” he waved at one goose making Peter laugh. “So is the girl awesome?”

“Smart, funny, cool, kinda scary.”

“The best ones are,” said Wade, smiling widely. 

Alone he never worried about turning up his mask, for about a month when they first met he had been super careful. Peter had gotten them both lollipops for one of their hangouts. Wade had just played with it and, when Peter had asked if he didn’t like the flavor, Wade had said, “Tumors and scars. My mouth would turn you off of your lollipop. I don’t want you losing your lunch.”

“I don’t like swearing,” Peter had said. 

“I know, Spider-Man, I’m trying to watch my fucking mouth,” had been the reply.

“I know. You’ve been doing pretty well. But, I’m not a fucking asshole and, if you think bad scarring is going to change how I see you, you’re wrong. Just enjoy your lollipop.”

Wade had turned up his mask with trepidation but Peter had just kept telling him about Mysterio. Wade had become more and more comfortable as time had gone on. Peter was glad that his long absence and the woman at the Starbucks hadn’t made Wade self-conscious around him again. “So how have you been since the spring, when I saw you?”

“It was hard for a while. Missed you. Got disenchanted with being a superhero for a while… Steve Rogers and the Avengers? How am I supposed to be a superhero when Steve Rogers is capable of breaking Spider-Man’s leg? I kinda, maybe, sorta tried to commit suicide by superhero. Wouldn’t have stuck but it would have been quiet for a little while… Johnny Storm ended up sobbing in my arms saying he missed you too… how is he doing? You introduced him to his boyfriend?”

“He’s good. He’s happy with his boyfriend… did he really cry on you?”

“Scout’s fucking honor,” said Wade.

Thinking about it, about Wade trying to get the Fantastics to kill him and about Johnny crying, made Peter ache. Steve Rogers and the people who had once been the Avengers had done so much damage to so many people. Peter said, “Johnny didn’t tell me about that. So I think, maybe, we should pretend I don’t know.” Wade nodded. “Wade, I’m so sorry; I’m so sorry that you felt like that. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.”

“Wow, no, no, Spidey: you’re the bestest. Don’t apologize for what they did. I fucking love you. You’re the coolest, nicest, most awesome superhero around. And you’ve only been back on the job for, like, two weeks. Don’t apologize.”

Peter smiled, “There’s a rule, up at X Mansion: I’m not allowed to apologize unless I do something purposefully and with malicious intent.”

“Good rule. And you don’t have a malicious bone in your body, broken by a shield or otherwise.”

Peter laughed, “I don’t know. When it’s the Goblin, I can get pretty malicious.”

“Nah, that’s vicious not malicious,” said Wade. “You don’t gotta worry about him for a while. No super villain is gonna step into Queens until a month before the third anniversary of your kidnapping.”

“Why?”

“They figure you’ll be eighteen by then. I mean, if you had been kidnapped during your birthday month you definitely would have told off SHIELD for hurting you during special month. That would be funny.”

“Oh yeah, I definitely would have. Shouting, ‘You’re ruining my birthday month,’ would be hilarious.”

“They don’t want to hit a kiddo. They’re all pretty sure they’re going to hell for hitting you before. So they’re staying out of Queens to avoid hitting a baby. They’re better people than Steve Rogers.”

“They want to kill or enslave everyone.”

“Yeah, but they don’t want to hurt a child.”

“That’s pretty neat, I guess.”

In his ear, Karen said, “You have seventeen minutes to get changed and get home and you’re quite far away.”

Peter said, “I gotta go. Mom’s cooking dinner and I have a curfew now she knows. I gotta go to dinner and then, when I go back out, I gotta be home by nine.”

“Good to know. Say hi to Spider-Mom for me!” Wade gave him a hug and said, “Skedaddle, kiddo, I’ll see you soon!”

“Bye, Wade,” Peter said before running off, then swinging in a complicated pattern over Queens, confusing anyone who might follow. He changed fast in an alley and jogged the rest of the way home. A pretty car was in the driveway and he opened the door calling, “I’m home.” Lucky rushed to him and put his paws on Peter’s shoulders to say hi. Peter ruffled his fur, “Hi, Lucky, I missed you too.”

“Were you really hanging out with Deadpool?” asked Johnny.

“Yeah, pictures on the internet?” 

“A story about you shaming a woman in a Starbuck who gasped at scars on the face of some guy in a weird Spider-Man lookalike outfit,” said Johnny.

“He has agreed to get some therapy and possible drugs from Hank,” said Peter.

“Whoa, that’s great,” said Johnny. 

“Right? What are you doing?”

“Reed said Sue was making casserole so I very quickly texted May and told Sue I had actually been invited here for lasagna. But, after, do you want to come back with me and have our SAT and research sleepover?”

“Um, I have to ask permission, but, yeah.” Peter went into the kitchen to say hi to May and said, “Deadpool called you Spider-Mom and I’m ashamed I didn’t think of the pun, so I’m gonna spread it around to the cops. Dinner smells so good.”

“It does,” agreed May, “Y’know what doesn’t? You. You have ten minutes before dinner. Go shower.”

“Okay, may I sleep over at Johnny’s?”

“Sure, honey,” said May, easily.

They had a nice dinner, talking easily and enjoying the food. Peter gathered his study guides and threw clothes into his backpack as Johnny got Lucky’s car harness hooked up. He and Johnny had a good night, studying. Peter was in and out of the lab, running test after test on tensile strength. They spent the night quizzing each other and going over stuff they were struggling with. They walked Lucky together and ate ice cream while catching up on Doctor Who in the media room. Reed came in and Johnny paused it so they could catch him up. 

Peter offered to restart the episode but Reed said, “I don’t mind. I only kind of like it.” Johnny was stretched out on a couch and Reed tapped his leg. “Budge.”

“There are six empty couches,” Johnny complained.

“I know, it’s been a while since we watched TV together.” Johnny rolled his eyes but sat up, letting Reed sit down and put an arm around Johnny’s shoulder, tugging him to sit close. They watched two episodes, pausing sometimes to talk. They had one more episode to watch but Reed stood and stretched, “I’m going to bed, night, boys. Get some sleep tonight so all the facts you’ve been cramming don’t fall out of your ears.”

He left and Johnny said, “So lame.”

“Yeah, what a jerk: wanting to cuddle the kid he helped raise.”

“I’m eighteen,” said Johnny. 

Peter nodded, “Yep, and totally a grownup. You’re totally not wearing footy pajamas.”

“Shut up; they’re comfy,” said Johnny as Peter started the next episode. 

“You’re never going to be too old for him to want to sit next to you,” said Peter, “and that’s nice not lame. It’s cool that your family is so close.”

“My dad didn’t call on Christmas,” said Johnny.

“I’m sorry,” said Peter. 

Johnny shrugged. “Lame old Reed wanted to watch TV he doesn’t really like with us. So, maybe it doesn’t matter.”

“Reed’s the best,” said Peter. 

“Yeah, he’s okay,” agreed Johnny. 

Ten minutes into the episode, Karen spoke in his ear, “Peter, your results are in.”

“Thank, Karen,” he paused the episode, “I have to hit the lab. Get more snacks?”

“Sure,” agreed Johnny. 

Peter went to the lab and started to go through the results, “Wow, is that even possible?”

“It’s very possible, also, incredibly expensive,” answered Karen from the computer monitor. Peter had signed into the cloud she was stored in. 

Peter heard a laugh from behind him and turned to see Ben. Peter smiled, “Johnny and I thought everyone was asleep.”

“No, still up, couldn’t sleep,” said Ben. “So, what’s possible but expensive?”

“Blades with a vibranium core and a two-atom thick coating of adamantium edge that will never, ever blunt and will cut through anything regardless of the material’s vibrational frequency.”

“You’re making a supervillain weapon?” asked Ben.

“No, I’m making something to help cops cut my webs off villains.”

Ben nodded, “Uh-huh. And one falls into the wrong hands and suddenly criminals can get out of your webs, through Kevlar and body armor, into bank vaults, out of handcuffs… you’ve invented Logan claws on speed and disconnected from the body of a hero.”

“Darn it, Ben,” Peter sighed. “I thought I invented something awesome.”

“You invented something terrifying,” said Ben. “It’s amazing, it’s also horrific. What about acid?”

“Nah, the web is so sticky it just re-sticks to itself,” said Peter.

“What about cold?” asked Johnny from the door. “Can freezing spray and a sharp tap from a cop shatter it?”

“To get it cold enough, you would give the person frostbite,” said Peter. “Y’know what would work? Like, a giant nail drill. Y’know? With the rotating sanding head. If one of those had a head that was like, four inches long and three thick. It would be too big for criminals to just carry around. And if that head was made out of adamantium sandpaper it would be strong enough. But, they would also cost well over ten grand a pop. The two best metals for this are so expensive to synthesize.” He sighed and raked his hands over his face. “This is so frustrating.” 

“I made popcorn; give up for the night. Let’s go finish Doctor Who and crash out,” suggested Johnny.

“Sounds good,” said Peter, logging out of the computer. They bid Ben goodnight before going back to the media room where Lucky was still passed out. They watched the episode munching on popcorn. As it ended, Peter asked, “Do you think this season is going to get any more cohesive?”

“It’s bizarre,” agreed Johnny. 

“You mind if Lucky sleeps on the bed?” asked Peter.

“I don’t mind. Sue’s just weird about the sofas. It’s not her bed.” They went to Johnny’s room, and climbed into bed. Lucky jumped up and snuggled into their feet. “Night, guys.”

“Night, Johnny,” said Peter. 

He woke up, with Johnny was mostly on top of him and Lucky half on top of him breathing on his face. “Guys,” he said. He tried to climb out from under them but repeated, “Guys.” 

Johnny sniffed, “Yeah?”

“We’re in a king-sized bed and I’m under two bodies on the edge of the bed.”

Johnny sniffed and rolled over. “Sry,” he slurred and passed out again. Peter picked up Luck, easy without the bulk of Johnny and put him at the foot of the bed. He went to pee and brush his teeth. 

And then he went to the kitchen where Reed was drinking coffee and reading a StarkPad. “Morning, Pete.”

“Morning.”

“When did you boys go to sleep?”

“I think it was around three,” said Peter. “I’d still be asleep if I hadn’t woken up under the combined weight of Johnny and Lucky.”

“Your leg okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Peter assured him. 

“Yeah? My rather muscular little brother didn’t kick your bad leg or anything?”

“I’m fine,” Peter assured him. “I’m totally fine.”

“Fine enough to help me make French toast?” asked Reed.

Peter smiled, “I can help. How do I help?” 

They were cooking when Sue came in wearing her dressing gown. She smiled and kissed Peter’s forehead. “I’m so glad we get you without a mask. It’s nice to have you sleepover. How did your research turn out last night? Any progress?”

He told them about accidentally inventing a supervillain weapon. They were all laughing and eating when Johnny woke up. He stumbled in with Lucky. “Too early, stop laughing.”

They spent the morning together, Ben and Reed coming with him to walk Lucky while Johnny still pouted over the time of the morning. Peter looked at his simulations again and he gave up.

“Hey,” said Reed. “Don’t be downhearted. What you have proven here is that your webbing is damn good. Also, that was seven hours of interning.”

“Can we really consider it interning?” asked Peter.

“For the sake of paperwork, yeah, and you can’t tell me you haven’t been taxing your mind with chemistry. All counts, kid.”

It was almost lunch when Peter said, “May was on night shift last night. She’ll be waking up around two. We haven’t had much of a chance to hang out recently because I got a social life. She likes to go for a walk in daylight when she’s on nights. And tomorrow she’s off totally.”

“Oh,” Sue looked disappointed. “We talked about doing Wikipedia Wednesday tonight.”

“And?” asked Peter.

“Well, if you guys have a plan,” she said. 

“We have a walk,” Peter corrected. “May’s off tomorrow and we have six bottles of wine in the fridge because Granma Jean is a lush and didn’t come to any part of Christmas because she hates me and when it all came to a head May was on my side. So, call and ask her about Wikipedia Wednesday. If she’s into it, point out that there is so much booze at my house and May is off work until the second. She has to be okay to drive by tomorrow night for the party. That’s her only responsibility. I can make myself scarce. If she is up for it.”

It was a relaxed day and he finished his schoolwork that night while May and Sue got tanked in the kitchen. He texted Johnny before he went to bed. “Your sister is going to need a ride. They are white girl wasted. They are singing Brown Eyed Girl. She’s either going to crash out in May’s bed or get carried out of here by you. I am heading to bed.”

He got a text back immediately. “Take her keys. She is overconfident in her sobriety.”

Peter went into the kitchen where they were dancing. He smiled at them both and took Sue’s purse from the chair it was sitting on. He held it open to her. “What?”

“Keys, please.”

She rolled her eyes, “Peter.”

“I know you wouldn’t be crazy enough to drive when you’re this drunk, but I want to go to bed and I would be much more comfortable if I knew that you were getting a ride from your brother. Keys, please.”

She gave them to him but then started to sing about the fact that she knew he was trouble when he walked in. He smiled, “Okay, Taylor. Have fun, ladies, I’m off to bed.”

“You’re so old,” said Sue, teasingly. 

“I got, like, four and a half hours of sleep and we have a party tomorrow night.” He kissed May’s cheek. “Night!” As he went up to his room, he texted Johnny saying he had the keys.

He heard Call Me Maybe being sung off-key as he slipped off. He woke up slowly and went downstairs, plodding. Sue was tucked up on the couch and he felt like laughing. She was in May’s PJs and he wondered just how late they had been up. He tiptoed into the kitchen and ate cereal quietly. He went up and got dressed for the day. Downstairs, he quietly got Lucky ready for a walk, leaving a note. 

They went out and Lucky decided they were visiting Ned. Peter tried to explain that it was too early for Ned to be awake. Lucky just stayed on the stoop wagging his tail. Peter kept explaining that Ned wasn’t awake. 

Mrs. Leeds opened the door, surprised, “Hi, Peter. Did you buzz?”

“No, my dog is refusing to move until he sees Ned and I’m trying to explain that Ned is in bed.”

She smiled, “Oh, Lucky,” she pulled off a leather glove to stroke him, “Ned won’t be awake for a few more hours. What are you doing up, Peter?”

“I got an early night and now I’m up.”

“Are you excited for tonight?”

“I am. I have an outfit and Johnny owns a collection of cravat and he had one that matches MJ’s dress. It’s gonna be great. Are guys doing anything?”

“No, just a quiet night. I hope you kids have fun,” she smiled. She put her glove back on saying, “Okay, Lucky, move along.” She made a shooing motion. Lucky finally got the message and made a whining noise. “You’ll see Ned tonight. And he will be in an opera cloak and top hat.”

“Nice,” said Peter. 

Lucky took off in a new direction and Peter laughed, “MJ’s not up either, Luck, it’s too early.” He was tugging and Peter said, “Pizza,” firmly. Lucky stopped and looked at him and Peter repeated, “Pizza.”

He went to the place on the corner and called, “Hey, Mr. Kelso. Can Luck come in?”

“No, he’s a nice dog but I am not risking my sanitary inspection for him. Y’wanna place your order from there?”

“A small pepperoni, for Lucky, please. No garlic, no onion, please, he’s allergic,” Peter requested.

“Okay, that’s custom because of the garlic, so half an hour,” said Mr. Kelso. 

“Cool, I’ll bring him home and be back.” 

It was a quiet day, May had a hangover. He finished his homework and played with Lucky in the yard for a bit. “Why did I drink that much?” asked May at around two.

Peter just smiled, “I thought it was nice. Hearing you two singing and laughing was… nice. I mean, everything that’s going on with her dad, Sue’s as stressed as Johnny she’s just not talking about it, at least not to us. And you don’t have many grownup friends. So, I think it’s good that you two were belting out Avril songs at gone one in the morning.”

“It was fun. I’m starting to feel human again.”

“Good, ‘cause you gotta get your drink on again in a few hours,” said Peter, making her groan.

“Maybe I’ll go light tonight,” she said, making him laugh. “Hey, rude.”

“Are you going to be okay tonight?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked. 

“Kissing at midnight,” he said.

She was quiet for a moment and then said, “Maybe I’ll kiss Hank just to get the first kiss out of the way. Then it will have happened.”

He looked at his hands and said, “Can I say something without you getting hurt? ‘Cause I’m not saying it to hurt you, or imply that you would ever hurt someone.”

“Sure, honey, what is it?”

“Hank has feelings for you. And when you are a muscular, blue, furry hulking man most people aren’t attracted to you. And I know you are attracted to him but you’re also not ready to date and I think… I don’t think you should kiss him because you want to kiss someone. You shouldn’t kiss him if it’s not going anywhere. He likes you and it wouldn’t mean nothing to him.” 

May nodded, “Thank you, Peter. I’m glad you said that because I wasn’t thinking like that. Hey, while we’re talking about uncomfortable romantic things.” She went to a cabinet and got out a box of condoms. 

“May, we’re so not there,” protested Peter.

“You’re not going to tell me when you are there,” she said. “They have a shelf life of five years. And we have to have a deeper conversation about consent.”

“Do we? Because that sounds awful,” said Peter, moving to get Pop Tarts. “Want to share?” 

“Sure,” she agreed. “Do you know how many conversations about parking under street lights and walking with her keys between her knuckles MJ and her parents have had?”

“I don’t know, dozens,” guessed Peter. 

“The number of those conversation could be halved if conversations like this were doubled. I know you’re my good kid,” she smiled. “And I know that you have seen a lot of horrible things as a hero and I know that you chose to dedicate yourself to Truth, Justice and the American Way so I don’t need to worry. But, on principle we should have this conversation.”

“Okay. But I wouldn’t say I’ve ‘seen’ horrible things. I’ve stumbled upon them. I’ve stopped them. I’ve webbed rapists up and ridden in ambulances with people who were hurt in the most personal way by people who weren’t supervillains. I’ve held hands with four young women and one teenage boy while they went through rape kits. Because they wouldn’t let go of my hand and said they wanted me to stay with them. And I listened as doctors told a college sophomore that because her mind and body reacted by freezing instead of fight or flight there wasn’t actually much damage. And then the police told her that it would be hard to prosecute because she was on a date but promised to do their best. I promised to testify but she decided not to press charges even though the guy was in custody. Because she didn’t scream, or struggle, because she was scared, and quiet and horrified there is a rapist walking around Queens. The rape was so quiet, at first I thought I was swinging in to break up an indecent public act. Then I saw her face and realized it wasn’t outdoor sex it was assault. Not all rape is violent or loud.” He shook his head. 

He thought about it and said, “I think you don’t realize both how strong I am and how aware I am of my strength. You see me as your kid who is Spider-Man before curfew. Go on YouTube and watch me throw down with Rhino. That’s my actual physical ability. There’s a lot inside of me that isn’t just your kid anymore. When I have medical stuff done and someone says, ‘Squeeze my hand as hard as you want,’ I never do. You wouldn’t have a hand, you would have ruined flesh and bone shards. All of my contact is conscious. California and Scandinavia have the law of affirmative consent — yes means yes. I think that’s the only way I would ever be comfortable because I know how strong I am, and I know that sometimes people don’t say no but that’s not the same as yes. So, what would you like to add?”

“You’ve sat through five rape kits?” asked May. “That’s brutal.”

Peter groaned, “I get that the doctors ask for consent every two minutes to give the person power over the situation but if it were me, that would be the worst part of it. I mean, if Hank had laid out in excruciating detail what he was about to do at every step of my treatment I would have gone insane. It’s an hour of having to yes over and over to uncomfortable, incredibly personal and invasive medical treatment. And there are so many people in and out of the room. I wouldn’t want a superhero in the room, but it was their call.” He shrugged, “It was true, what I said to Steve Rogers on the boat, you see horrible things as a teen superhero. But you comfort yourself by stopping it and trying to help however you can.”

“Jesus,” she breathed out. The Pop Tarts popped up and Peter brought them to the table. She blew her breath out hard and said, “Okay, so, when guys talk about ‘bad sex’ they are usually talking about boring sex, as in it’s not exciting. When girls talk about ‘bad sex’ they mean physically uncomfortable or painful but still consensual sex. As a society we have socialized women to believe that pain is part of sex. It shouldn’t be. So talk to your partner. You should know if you’re having ‘bad sex,’ and that her definition is very different than what you think it means. There are tons of things you can do to be having better sex and you’re not going to want to talk to me. But you have Remy, very accessible and completely unembarrassed. The kids at the Xavier Academy are getting the best, frankest most thorough sex ed in the country. So, if you have questions or problems, he’s going to be able to give you advice and a reading list. And if it’s all too embarrassing to discuss with MJ or Remy, then you shouldn’t be doing it. If you can’t communicate you aren’t actually ready. And porn is to sex what Gone in Sixty Seconds is to driving: a poor educational tool.” She slid the condoms over the table, “Those are yours. Give me a Pop Tart.” 

He handed over the plate and said, “Thanks for the condoms. I better put them upstairs before MJ’s mom gets here. She will panic, although she said you two have been talking about the three Cs of sex.”

“Yeah, she’s called three times since you asked MJ out, panicking. I pointed out that you’re good friends, clever, kind and like each other. You could both do way worse as far as first relationships go. As adults we can only hope you aren’t idiots.” 

“We’ll do our best,” he agreed. They ate their pastries and Peter said, “I’m gonna take Lucky for a walk before getting dressed.” 

It was a faster walk, Lucky seemingly happy with just Peter after his pizza. He went home, showered and then very carefully glued his mask to his face, using the eyelash glue it came with. It was hard and kind of made him panic to glue something to his face. It made May laugh. She helped him get it straight and he said, “Does Dick Grayson go through this every night? It must cut into his superhero time.” 

“Dick Grayson is fictional, honey.”

“But do I kinda look like him with the mask and the hair?”

“Yeah totally,” she agreed. Then she looked away, hiding her smile.

“What?” asked Peter. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”

“Spider-Man is aiming to look like a fictional hero,” said May. “Your hair is the exact right ratio of sticking up to messy floppy curls. When he’s Nightwing and dashing as opposed to young and with the center part and dumb bangs.”

“Thank you,” he said, “that is a thought-out answer that shows you pay attention to my life and interests.”

“No problem. I’m going to get dressed.”

He nodded, “Sure.” 

In his room, he watched a video of how to tie a cravat and put on his suit, bought from a website. It had been described on the internet as a “steampunk, gothic frock coat with a Mandarin collar.” It hooked up the front and was open at the throat letting Peter’s cravat shine. He thought he looked pretty suave.

“You look handsome,” May said as she came in in a floor-length, black velvet dress Peter had never seen and she looked amazing. 

She had hair rollers in but still looked awesome. “Woah, wow, where’d you get that? Not Amazon.”

“Back when we were young, Ben and I would visit your parents at Georgetown — back when they were dating — to attend the masquerade ball. We always had so much fun. And, after college, your parents didn’t want it to stop so they would get a permit for the park. We would invite all our friends and party all night.”

Peter nodded, “I kinda remember that. From when I was, like, four. I’ve seen pictures of me in a baby tux.”

“So cute. Thankfully, I am still the same size I was when I was in my twenties. I spent two weeks salary on this dress. Thank God it still fits. Can you help me with the middle buttons? I can reach the top and bottom but not the ones in the middle.” Peter did as asked. “I just need to take the rollers out and do my face. Do you need help with your cravat?”

“No, YouTube is teaching me. Go finish getting ready; I got this.”

It took two additional videos and five attempts but he got it right in the end. The doorbell rang and May called from the bathroom. “Can you get that? I’m doing my eyes.”

“On it!” he called back. He went downstairs and to the door where Lucky was waiting moving from one foot to the other, excited. He was a terrible watchdog. “Sit,” ordered Peter and Lucky obeyed. “Stay, it’s fancy clothes.” He opened the door and smiled, “Wow, Ned, you pulled a great outfit together fast.” He had the top hat, cape, Phantom of the Opera mask and a suit.

“I actually had this stuff already,” said Ned. 

“You look awesome. Come on in.” He said then he quickly added, “Lucky, stay.”

Mrs. Leeds came in saying, “I hope it’s okay for me to come take pictures?”

“Totally, May’s still doing her makeup. She’s got a ball gown on. Everyone gets dressed up.”

“Fun,” said Mrs. Leeds.

Looking at Ned, Peter said, “Do you have the corsage?”

“I left it in the car. Is it too lame?” asked Ned. “Like, it’s not prom.”

“No, I think she’ll love it,” said Peter, remembering Charles’ words. “It’s Cat; she’s loves the dramatic: Buffy is her favorite show. She has had a rough few weeks: give her the corsage.”

Mrs. Leeds smiled, “Picture time.” They were posing for photos, a lot of James Bond stances, when the doorbell rang. 

Peter heard May’s heels on the stairs, “I’ve got it,” she called. “Hi. Come on in.”

He froze when he saw MJ. “Oh my God: you look like an actual Disney princess.” She laughed. It was an actual ball gown that, like, stuck out at the sides and had a high lace collar and puffy sleeves. It was royal blue and kind of sparkly. She was wearing a matching satin mask and still had her hair in the pretty braids. “I felt pretty good about how I looked and now I feel like a fraud.”

She laughed again, “You look pretty good too, tiger.”

“How does it go out at the sides?” asked Peter.

“I’m wearing a hoop skirt,” she explained.

“But it’s just at the sides,” said Ned, speaking Peter’s confusion for him.

“It’s a side hoop, called a pannier.” She started hiking up her skirt.

“Shelly,” her mother exclaimed. 

“Mom, I’m wearing bike shorts, calm down.” She had plastic hoops on either side of her hips. It was tied around her waist. “I’m wearing shorts because I figured, depending on how good the food is, I might need to loosen it and I’m gonna need help. Cat’s seen me in my underwear a lot but Cat might be busy dancing and I might be grabbing someone I don’t know to help me.” She dropped the dress back into place. 

“That is so cool,” said Peter. “Your dress has armature.”

“I kinda feel like a Disney Princess,” she admitted. 

“We need more photos,” said May. 

Peter went upstairs to get his camera and handed it off saying, “Here: you can get some high-res ones.” 

They took pictures, all three of them together, pulling Charlie’s Angels poses. 

“If that hoop isn’t delicate, Peter can pick you up like a wedding picture,” suggested Ned.

“So cute,” agreed MJ’s mom.

Peter scooped MJ up and she kicked one leg up so her skirt poofed out. Her white Reeboks showed at the hem. “Thanks for wearing sneakers,” said Peter.

“I don’t care that I’m taller than you, I’m just afraid of spraining an ankle because I don’t wear heels and I don’t want to fall dancing.”

Peter put her down and thought they were done with pictures. But, May said, “Would someone take one of Peter and me? I don’t remember the last time I got dressed up.”

“You and Ben went to Tavern on the Green for your anniversary,” said Peter.

“We beat Final Fantasy that night,” said Ned. 

“Yes we did,” agreed Peter. “That was the most recent time you broke out the hot rollers, May.”

“You definitely need pictures,” agreed Mrs. Leeds. 

They took a couple and May said, “MJ, bored model stance in these gowns?”

They leaned on each other, MJ using May’s shoulder as an armrest, both of them pulling bored, disaffected facial expressions. “May, let a curl fall over your face. MJ, chin up, neck longer,” ordered Peter. He took the photo and said, “Got it.” He turned the camera to them to show it off.

“Quintessential bored model,” agreed May. “Okay, kids: overnight bags. And, Ned, don’t forget the corsage.” Peter headed upstairs and grabbed the cord to connect his phone to his camera along with his bag. 

Downstairs, MJ was crouching to put on Lucky’s bowtie. “He’s not going for the mask,” she said.

“That was always a longshot,” Peter shrugged. MJ added Lucky’s cape. It wasn’t his normal cape. It was black and Peter had used white masking tape to write “Nervous But Classy” on it. “So handsome, Lucky.” Peter said, in the tone that made Lucky’s tail wag, hard. The dog looked up at him, tongue out, tail wagging and Peter took a photo capturing his tie and cape. “Handsome. Everyone ready?” 

In the car things were quiet at first people sending each other photos, forwarding photos to their mothers, updating social media. Peter made one slideshow on Instagram of them in fancy clothes, laughing, including the photo of Lucky, grinning in his bowtie and captioned it, “TFW your squad is killing it.” He posted another, MJ, laughing, not looking at the camera, absolutely stunning and captioned it “#OkayGoogle, what do you do when your date is a #DisneyPrincess and you’re just you? Answer: accept the inevitability that she will realize her mistake.” He tagged her in it.

A few moments later he got an alert and saw she had posted a photo of him laughing and tagged him. It was a good photo and she had captioned it, “#OkayGoogle, what do you do when the guy you’re dating looks like this but still thinks he’s beneath you? Answer: be pleased he hasn’t figured it out and started hitting on girls who are out of his league.” 

He smiled at his phone and typed the comment, “Hate to break it to you, but I’ve been hitting on a girl who is out of my league for months.” He went of Facebook and skimmed through really old pictures on May’s profile and found one of Ned and him posing as James Bond in first grade. He posted it with one of them doing the same pose earlier and captioned, “We found our photo stance early. #IfItAintBroke” He posted one of the three of them and captioned it, “Name a more iconic trio… I’ll wait. JK: Father, Son, Holy Ghost; Harry, Ron, Hermione; Mr. Salt, Mrs. Pepper, Baby Paprika. Etc.” 

They were all laughing at their phones and May said, “How is the internet doing?”

“The internet is good,” said Peter. “MJ, can you mess with the radio and find something good?” She had shotgun in deference to her dress. She found a pop station that was good enough for all of them to dance along. An alert chirped on all their phones and Peter saw a photo of Johnny looking every bit the model he was paid to be. He was in an immaculately tailored suit with a sleek mask and a half-smirk as he was adjusting his tie he had tagged them all and wrote, “Tell me you’re on your way and aren’t still modeling in Peter’s living room.”

“Posting from the car,” Peter replied. 

Ned commented on the post, “An internship that will look to colleges or one that gets you invited to a masquerade? Both.”

MJ smiled at her phone and commented, “Both. Both is good.”

“I thought social was banned from the party.” Peter typed fast. 

“Photos from the party are strictly verboten on social.” Johnny replied. “Those are purely for memories. Any of those turn up on the internet and we’ll all be in trouble. I took this in my bedroom earlier.”

MJ commented, “That suit doesn’t quite fit the theme. It’s a little pedestrian.”

“I’ve been reprimanded for being underdressed about twenty times since walking in. Get here: food’s good, music’s good, company is fabulous.” They pulled up to the mansion and saw tons of cars and jets parked. 

“Wow, like, everyone is here,” said Peter.

“You okay with that?” asked May.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” asked Peter.

“Because you just decided to scrap your secret identity with the X-Men,” said MJ. “And it looks like every superhero in America is here.”

“I’m afraid of the Senator Kellys, not my own kind. No one gets into the mansion unless they are good people.” He meant the words but he was glad that he could take a moment to gather himself as he unhooked Lucky from the back of the wagon. He steeled his nerves and went to the house where he was immediately hugged by a tipsy Bruce.

“You guys look amazing,” he gushed.

“How drunk are you?” asked Peter.

“I’m a fifth of whiskey in,” said Bruce. He kissed Peter’s cheek. “Come in.” 

There really were a ton of superheroes inside, even people from off world. Peter introducing May to Rocket and the rest of the Guardians and May didn’t bat an eyelid, because May was awesome.

Rocket said, “You look shorter without the outfit.”

“You look smaller without your guns,” replied Peter. Then Rocket had guns in both hands. “How?” asked Peter.

“Pockets,” said Rocket and then Charles was shouting and Rocket flinched, “Sorry, Charlie! Sorry!”

“Don’t get us all kicked out,” said Peter. Then he said, “We gotta go say hi to some more people. Don’t get the party shut down.” 

As they walked away MJ whispered, “What the fuck?” 

Peter smiled, “Aliens, what are y’gonna do?”

They spent the night dancing with their friends, all of them dressed to the nines. Kitty loved her corsage. They laughed and ate and enjoyed themselves. At midnight there was a count down and he kissed MJ and said, “Happy New Year.”

She smiled, “New Year, new you?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “New year, old me, but that feels pretty great.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have two little one-shots that I want to write but this is the main story line. I want Shuri coming to New York and I want to do something dark but this is it: Peter is better and back to being Spider-Man.
> 
> If you have enjoyed this story, I would love comments or kudos! Obviously, I wrote this for myself but I love hearing what other people thought and if they liked it.


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